Capriccio
by finicky
Summary: Violin virtuoso Ryoma Echizen goes to Japan for a break from his career and meets Sakuno Ryuzaki, a piano prodigy with whom he'd made a promise nine years ago. Some things have changed, however. AU, RyoSak.
1. Prelude

**Capriccio**

Summary: Violin virtuoso Ryoma Echizen goes to Japan for a break from his career and meets Sakuno Ryuzaki, a piano prodigy with whom he'd made a promise nine years ago.  
>Pairing(s): RyoSak, FujiSak, AtobeAnn<br>Warning(s): AU, musical jargon

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable is not mine.

_Note: It is advisable to listen to _J.S. Bach's Chaconne in D minor _and _Beethoven's Sonata for Piano and Violin No. 5 (First Movement)_ on the respective parts in which they are mentioned in this chapter._

Enjoy. :)

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><p><strong>Prelude<strong> (n.)

_A short piece originally preceded by a more substantial work; also an orchestral introduction to opera, however not lengthy enough to be considered an overture_

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><p>Sakuno Ryuzaki was seven years old when she fell in love with Ryoma Echizen.<p>

She was too young to even comprehend what love was, but she knew, right then and there, that she had met someone whom she would never forget in a thousand lifetimes. Her friends had ignored her, having no interest whatsoever with such icky, 'grownup' things, and the adults had just laughed it off as some sort of puppy love she'd soon forget about. Sakuno was not to be swayed, though; if she was anything, she was resolute, and once she had decided that she liked something, she liked it _a lot,_ and it would take a lot of time before she got over it_._

Only her grandmother could understand how she felt for the boy, and for that, Sakuno loved her even more.

She had come from a musically-inclined family. Her mother was a cellist, her father a violinist, and her grandmother a world-renowned pianist. She had taken after the great Sumire Ryuzaki and became her apprentice at age three, and so by age six, Sakuno was already surprisingly good in the piano, bagging First Place in a national competition and even once performing for the Prime Minister of Japan with a whole symphony orchestra as her accompaniment. Her grandmother didn't want to rob the girl of her childhood, though, and so had made it a point that Sakuno had enough time for both piano and her social life. She didn't pressure her to become a prodigy – actually, she didn't _have _to, as it had come to Sakuno quite naturally – and let her have fun like most kids her age. The girl was shy and demure, only gaining a few but reliable friends, but she was a happy, and that was more than enough.

A few days after she turned seven, Sakuno had gone to a vacation in the States with her grandmother. She was the one who volunteered herself, because the last time she rode the plane was when she was four, and she could barely recall anything from the firsthand experience. Also, her grandmother was supposed to stay over at the house of an old friend, whom Sakuno was told to be also Japanese and an acclaimed pianist around the world. Overtly curious and longing for some adventure, she had decided to go, even if it would mean missing her best friend Tomoka's recital (she had heard her piece a million times during practice anyway).

Once they arrived at the airport, they were welcomed by a chauffeur holding a placard with Sakuno's grandmother's name. They were ushered to a silver car that drove to a huge mansion in the suburbs, in a place called Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Sakuno stared out the car window, her doe-like eyes even wider in awe as the house loomed over them.

"Are you okay, Sakuno?" Sumire asked, once they were dropped off by the door and was immediately assisted with their baggage by two maids who had been waiting for them.

Sakuno nodded, pulling on her twin braids nervously.

"Smile, darling. You look like you're having a stomachache."

"Yes, Obaa-chan."

The front doors suddenly burst open, and a middle-aged man came out, looking disgruntled as he carried with him a stack of curious-looking magazines.

"I told you _not _to touch my private closet!" he was yelling in English at someone from inside. "I will _never _let you burn my collection again, my dear wife!"

Sumire loudly cleared her throat, and the man snapped his head towards their direction, his mouth opening to form a small 'o' when he recognized them.

"Oh, hey!" he said, suddenly in Japanese. "I was expecting you'd arrive by now." He peered down at a scared-looking Sakuno, a huge grin on his face. "Are you lost, little one?"

In response, the little girl squeaked and hid behind her grandmother's legs.

"Hello, Nanjiroh," the old woman said, sounding tired all of a sudden. "I see that you have never changed."

"I can say the same with you, old hag," the man called Nanjiroh said, sneering at her. "You're as old and vile as ever."

Sumire's eye twitched violently. Before she could say something back, though, a woman came rushing out the door, carrying with her a bottle of kerosene and a matchbox.

"Now give me the magazines, _dear, _or else you'll burn into ashes along with them!" she threatened rather vehemently. She paused in mid-action when she spotted Sumire and Sakuno standing awkwardly on the doorstep, her expression changing from enraged to delight.

"Hello, Rinko," Sumire greeted once more, cautiously eyeing the dangerous objects in the other woman's hands.

"Ryuzaki-sensei! It's been a long time!" Rinko came up to her and gave her a peck on the cheek. "I'm really sorry that you have to see us in one of our…_discussions_." At that, she threw the man a dirty look, which he returned by childishly sticking out his tongue.

"It's not like I'm not used to it," the old woman chuckled. She then pushed her hiding granddaughter for the younger woman to see. "I believe you still haven't met my Sakuno?"

Rinko crouched down to Sakuno's level and smiled at her. "Hello there, Sakuno. My name is Rinko Echizen. I've heard so much about you from your Obaa-chan!"

"H-Hello, Echizen-san…" Sakuno stuttered, blushing at the attention.

"Oh please, just call me Rinko-chan!"

"Why can't _I_ call you Rinko-chan?" Nanjiroh cut in crossly.

She shot him another glare before smiling at Sakuno once more. "And that evil-looking man who'd just spoken is Nanjiroh-chan, my husband."

"Hello, Nanjiroh-chan…"

"Uwaaaah, so adorable!" Nanjiroh gushed, before turning to Sumire enviously. "How come you have a very cute granddaughter? All I have are two very un-cute sons, and they both think I'm stupid!"

"Because you _are _stupid, Nanjiroh," Sumire spat.

"Let's go in, shall we?" Rinko said, taking the twin-braided girl by the hand. "I'm excited to hear Sakuno play!"

Moments later, they were seated inside a cozy sitting room, stuffed with tea and cake. As the grownups exchanged news about each other's personal lives, Sakuno stood and looked at the various objects displayed on the walls and the tables. There were several framed certificates of participation in recitals around the world, while the rest showcased professional shots of performances done by the Echizen couple in their younger years. There was a particular blown-up photo hanging on the wall, depicting the husband and wife in a violin concerto. Nanjiroh was in a black suit, brows knitted and forehead shining in sweat as he played on a Steinway & Sons grand piano, while a little ways ahead of him was a stunning Rinko in an evening gown, eyes closed and a small smile on her face as she fiddled with her violin. Printed in small white letters on the lower-right-hand corner of the photograph was the date and location of the concert it was taken from, which was - If Sakuno counted correctly - eight years ago.

There was a tall glass shelf at one corner, encasing numerous trophies and plaques from various piano and violin competitions. Sakuno patiently read the label on each one of them, growing more amazed in each second that passed. She looked back at the rowdy man on the couch, wondering if she could ask him to play the piano for her. With the number of competitions Nanjiroh had won, Sakuno could say that maybe he was even a better pianist than her own grandmother – which was a feat, for Sumire Ryuzaki was a prodigy and currently one of the most sought-after piano teachers in the world. She was about to return to the old woman, bent on telling her discreetly that she wanted Nanjiroh to play for them, when another set of photos caught her attention.

On the first picture was a boy in his early teens, the photo freezing the moment when he appeared to be singing onstage. He had dark hair, and eyes the same color as that of Nanjiroh's. The next one was that of a boy with dark-green hair, obviously younger than the one from the first picture. He was frowning, his eyes – which were also like Nanjiroh's – glaring at the direction of the camera. In his left hand was a 3/4-sized violin that was too big for him, but Sakuno could see that his fingers were bandaged, most probably from trying to play such an ill-fitting instrument. The last one was a family photo containing the Echizen couple and the two boys. Rinko was sitting on an armchair, the younger of the two boys placed on her lap. Nanjiroh and the teenage son stood side-by-side, identical naughty grins on their faces.

What really caught her attention, though, were not the people in the picture, but the sleek white grand piano peeking in from the background. Judging by the windows and wallpaper caught in the frame, it was also taken inside the Echizen household.

"Obaa-chan," Sakuno called out, running back to her grandmother.

"…was telling him he should just accept private tutoring—Oh yes, Sakuno?" the old woman said distractedly.

"Piano," she said in her little voice, trying to point her at the picture.

"Later, okay? After this." Sumire turned back to the two adults and resumed her story, not minding when her granddaughter pouted and looked around her listlessly.

As a maid entered the room with a trolley of deserts, leaving the door open behind her, Sakuno saw her opportunity. Making sure that the others were too busy to notice her, she slipped out into the carpeted hallway, suddenly feeling excited to venture out on her own. The mansion was overwhelmingly big, but it didn't seem to faze the little girl as she began going room-to-room, in a valiant search for her object of desire.

Before she knew it, she was on the third floor, and she found neither the piano nor the way back to the sitting room where the others were. Feeling alone and scared, she hoped that someone would come her way. No one did, and, feeling remorseful, she stayed inside one of the rooms she had stumbled upon, curling herself up on a soft couch and staring at the barren walls. Gradually, her eyes began feeling heavy, and she allowed herself to drift in a light slumber.

She didn't know how long she had been asleep. All she knew was that she was woken up by a beautiful melody, one that seemed to transcend even the thick walls of the mansion. She rubbed her eyes blearily, wondering if it was a part of a dream. It wasn't, and the music that was unmistakably coming from the violin reverberated all over her being, making the hair at the back of her neck stand on end. As if hypnotized, she walked her way out of the room, trusting her sharp ears to follow the source of the intricate string of musical notes.

She had ended up before a pair of tall, white doors down on the second floor, slightly ajar so that the music had a way out right into Sakuno's soul. She stared, transfixed, at the boy responsible for the bone-chilling sensation, amazed by the long, pale fingers that travelled over the strings in a blur, moved by the interpretation of the piece that was being played. She recognized it in a whim as Bach's Chaconne in D minor, one of her father's favorite pieces of all time.

She closed her eyes to savor the slow, precise pace of the music, the vibratos tickling her musician's ears. She smiled at the tender but calculating technique employed on the piece, noting that whoever was playing had really understood the mood and nature of the composition. The tempo began increasing, and the notes picked up a pitch, and Sakuno's thrill heightened and –

It stopped.

Blinking in surprise, Sakuno secretly urged the good music to continue, the characteristic pout appearing on her face.

"_Who's there?_" the young boy suddenly said, in accent-free English. Squawking in embarrassment, Sakuno froze on her spot, her brown eyes stricken with fear as a moment later, the doors were fully opened, and someone stepped out.

The live version of the younger son from the pictures earlier was standing before her, regarding her with a bored look on his face. He was at least two inches taller, and that was enough height difference to intimidate any normal seven-year-old girl caught eavesdropping in a practice session.

"Who are you?" he asked her, still in English.

"S-Sakuno," she found herself murmuring.

The boy's golden-brown eyes widened a fraction of an inch. "You have a Japanese accent," he said, this time in Sakuno's native tongue.

She nodded numbly, unable to form coherent words.

"Are you Ryoga's friend?" he queried in a commanding tone.

Sakuno shook her head wildly, her twin braids flapping around her. She had no idea who Ryoga was.

That seemed to satisfy him, somewhat. "What are you doing here, Sakuno?"

"I…" The young girl flushed. "I was lost and I fell asleep…then I heard you playing…"

"Hmm." With that, the boy turned around and went back inside, and Sakuno, despite her apprehension, followed him, peering up curiously at the wide practice room.

"Ah!" she suddenly gasped, pointing an excited finger at the center of the room. "The piano!"

The green-haired boy, who was in the middle of returning his violin to its case, watched her curiously as she ran up the white grand piano and openly admired it.

"You play the piano?" he asked her, a little interestedly.

"Yes," Sakuno said, smiling to herself. "This is a nice piano."

"It's my oyaji's. It's especially made for him."

Carefully, the small girl lifted the fall, her face lighting up as she inspected the spotlessly clean black and white keys. She turned to the boy with a pleading look in her eyes, silently asking permission to touch them.

He shrugged his consent.

After a moment's hesitation, Sakuno tapped a white key, and she marveled at how perfectly tuned it was.

"Sakuno."

She jumped slightly at the boy's sharp voice. "Y-Yes…?" she said, thinking that she had done something wrong.

"Play."

She blinked, but he just continued staring at her. "Oh..uhm…okay." She gingerly took her seat in front of the piano, leaning a bit closer so that her feet would reach the pedals. "What should I play?"

"Anything."

Sakuno thought for a moment. "I thought of a piece where you can play with me," she told the boy. "If you don't mind." This was one unusual thing about her. In the presence of the piano, she would mysteriously overcome her shyness and be as assertive as anyone else.

"Hehh," the boy said, a smirk playing on his lips. "And what would that be?"

"Beethoven's Spring Sonata. First Movement."

The boy's smirk widened. He then lifted his violin and rested it on his shoulder. "Make sure to catch up," he said, sternly but not unkindly.

Sakuno gently rested her hands on the keyboard, took a deep breath, and glanced at her partner. He met her eye, and, with a nod, they began.

Immediately, the room was filled with a myriad of jolly, overlapping keys and strings, and Sakuno's consciousness flitted along with the music. Surprisingly, they caught up with each other's pace as if this was not their first encounter; on the contrary, it felt like they had been playing together for ages, with the way the piano fell in synch with the violin like two matching puzzle pieces. In a passing moment, Sakuno glanced at the boy, and saw (with a jolt of surprise) that he had his eyes closed, as if enjoying himself. She, too, smiled to herself. She had not met anyone of her age who could play on par with her, and this boy was certainly an exception.

They had continued playing, unaware of anything but of each other's music, until they were interrupted by a sharp gasp coming from the open doorway.

The two children looked up and met the amazed stares of Rinko, Nanjiroh and Sumire.

"Obaa-chan…"

"Okaa-san, oyaji."

"That was…" Rinko started, at a loss for words. Then, before anyone knew it, she had imploded on the spot. "_That was so amazing!_" she squealed, clapping her hands ecstatically. "_Tres bien!_"

"That was superb, Sakuno-chan!" Nanjiroh nodded in approval. "And since when can you play _happy_ music, seishounen_?_" he snapped at his son, who only grunted and said something like "Stupid oyaji" under his breath.

"Nothing less can be expected from my granddaughter," Sumire said proudly, standing by Sakuno's side and resting a hand on the little girl's shoulder. "I see that you've just met Ryoma, ne, Sakuno?"

Sakuno blinked up at her grandmother, then looked back at the grouchy boy. "Oh, so you're Ryoma-kun…"

"Oh yes," Nanjiroh said, ruffling his son's hair affectionately, much to the young boy's annoyance. "Getting a little cozy with the young lady, eh, you sly brat?"

Eight-year-old Ryoma rolled his eyes. "Stupid oyaji. She still has lots to work on."

His words had cut sharply in Sakuno's heart. "W-What?" she asked, her stammer resurfacing once more.

The boy cocked his head to the right, avoiding her imploring gaze. "You still have lots to work on, Sakuno."

She watched, crestfallen, as the boy picked up his things and left the room without so much as giving her a second look.

"Oi, you rude little-" Nanjiroh started angrily, but the door had already closed behind his son's back.

The little girl looked up at her grandmother, tears forming in her eyes. "Did I not play well, Obaa-chan?" she asked, her lower lip trembling.

The old woman gave her an encouraging smile. "Don't you worry Sakuno. I'm sure Ryoma didn't find you bad. That's just his way of telling you that you can still improve."

"Don't cry now, Sakuno!" Rinko supplied helpfully, clapping her hands together in an apologetic gesture. "I'm really sorry about Ryoma, too. He doesn't really know how to say most things the proper way." She leaned in and started to whisper. "To make you feel better, I'll tell you a secret. It's the first time I've seen him play with another person aside from Nanjiroh – and with such pleasure, too!"

Sakuno stared at the beautiful woman. "Really?"

"Yes," Rinko said, winking. "It means you must be really _really _good, Sakuno!"

However, the seven-year-old shook her head. "If Ryoma-kun says that I still have lots to work on, then maybe it's true," she mumbled, not noticing when the two older women exchanged a mildly worried look.

Later that night, as she was tucked in bed in one of the guest rooms of the Echizen household, Sakuno couldn't help but recall the wonderful music that she had played earlier with the boy named Ryoma. She closed her eyes, the image of a boy with dark-green hair playing the violin resurfacing in her thoughts, and she couldn't help but smile as sleep slowly overtook her.

_Someday, when I'm good enough, I __will play that wonderful music with Ryoma-kun once again._

If Sakuno was anything, she was resolute. True enough, even after nine long years, she was still holding on to those words as if her own life depended on it.

What she didn't know, however, was that if Ryoma Echizen was anything, he was always serious.

True enough, even after nine long years, he, too, had not forgotten Sakuno's final words.

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><p><em>Since I really fail in trying to be funny, I will just redeem myself by writing a challenging AU fic. Tell me how I fared so far by kindly leaving a review. Your comments will be highly appreciated.<em>


	2. A niente

**Capriccio**

Summary: Violin virtuoso Ryoma Echizen goes to Japan for a break from his career and meets Sakuno Ryuzaki, a piano prodigy with whom he'd made a promise nine years ago.  
>Pairing(s): RyoSak, FujiSak, AtobeAnn<br>Warning(s): AU, musical jargon

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable is not mine.

_Author's Notes at the end of the chapter. ;)_

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><p><strong>A niente<strong>

_To nothing_

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><p>Rinko Echizen was getting worried.<p>

She rested a fist on her chin in deep thought, watching intently as the flat widescreen before her displayed a lone tall, young man with dark-green hair and golden-brown eyes, standing on a wide, brightly-lit stage while animatedly playing the violin. It had been the third time she had watched this video copy of her younger son's most recent competition in Prague (which was his second winning streak since last year), and despite the arguably flawless execution of Paganini's Caprice No. 24 emanating from the surround speakers, the Echizen matriarch had an odd, unexplainable feeling about it.

Technically speaking, Ryoma Echizen could already be considered as one of the top young musicians in the West, if not the world. At the age of seventeen, his prodigious talent in the violin had won him a remarkable number of international competitions, catching the eye of every talent scout out there in a valiant search for fresh faces in the classical music industry. For a few years now, Ryoma's much-awaited debut to the professional circuit had been delayed, primarily due to Rinko and Nanjiroh's discretion. Ryoma's parents both had the verdict that their younger son was still not ready to formally embrace music as his career, as his performances continued to lack something –or were simply, as Nanjiroh would eloquently put it, "_Mada mada daze._"

Expectedly, the decision was not received very well. Ryoma, in his frustration towards his parents' apparent lack of faith in his competence, had withdrawn himself from the rest of the family for the past year, obsessively practicing the violin until his fingers and shoulders gave in. The rest of the Echizen household would hear aggressive, almost violent renditions of very complex pieces that seventeen-year-olds were usually not even capable of playing, punctuated either by the sounds of hard furniture being kicked or a stream of cusswords that would put any gangster to shame.

With that in mind, Rinko concentrated on the TV once more and noted Ryoma's handsome features, blown up as the camera zoomed into his face. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, his brows forming a furrow and his lips pulled downward in a small scowl of concentration. There was something remarkably spine-chilling and ethereal in his version of Caprice No. 24, with him having the arpeggios and parallel octaves unnervingly down to boot—Rinko would give him that much credit.

But still…

"Ah, that one really _does _bug me."

She looked over her shoulder in mild surprise and caught sight of her husband, Nanjiroh, leaning on the doorway leading to the theater room she was in. His golden-brown eyes—inherited by both of his sons—were also fixed on the video that Rinko was watching, an uncharacteristic serious expression on his face.

"Still thinking about seishounen?" he ventured.

Rinko nodded grimly. "I get the feeling that we have to take action as much as possible."

Nanjiroh pushed himself away from the doorway frame and went to sit on the couch beside Rinko. The two fell silent as they listened intently to the rest of Ryoma's videotaped performance.

"Precise and calculated, as always," the elder Echizen remarked, as Ryoma made one final pull of his bow and dramatically ended the piece. For a split-second, a hushed, imperturbable silence fell over the hall, before there was thunderous applause from the unseen audience, mingled with a few shouts of "_Bravo!" _and loud screams of girls.

"We have nothing left to teach him," Rinko concluded. "This is as far as any mentor could go."

Nanjiroh nodded imperceptibly. "In terms of technique and skill, it's safe to say that seishounen has managed to surpass any of our expectations," he said, absently recalling how he had personally witnessed his son's growth over the years—a process that was unmistakably more blood and sweat than mere natural talent. Instead of the expected glint of pride in his eyes, however, there was only a dim look. "Though looking at him now, I don't know what exactly I am seeing."

At this, the elder pianist stood and walked off to one corner of the dimly-lit room. He came to a halt before a tall glass shelf placed against the wall, filled with numerous trophies that stood for every competition that the Echizen brothers Ryoga and Ryoma had garnered over the years. A small smile graced Nanjiroh's lips. How time flew and left.

"Ryoma," Nanjiroh started, his eyes still on the shelf, "is like an iceberg. The tip, which is what he shows everyone, is sharp, carved and smooth. The epitome of perfection. But what others would overlook is the far larger part of him that lurks underneath the ocean, the side of him that remains untapped, undiscovered, unfathomed by me, you…" He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "…and even himself."

"What should _we _do, then?"

He turned around and faced his wife from the opposite side of the room. "It's something we can't get rid of even if we wanted to. It's for Ryoma to overcome," he said, a tone of finality in his voice.

Unbeknownst to the Echizen couple, their voices drifted through the double doors that were left ajar right into the dark hallway where a tall figure quietly stood, effectively blending in the shadows.

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><p>"Nanjiroh!"<p>

Said man grunted incomprehensibly and turned to his side, tugging the bed sheets over his head to shield himself from the intruding noise overhead. However, it had not been a second later when the sheets were harshly pulled away from him, exposing him to the chilly air and soft rays of early morning sunlight.

"Get up, Nanjiroh!" It was Rinko's exasperated voice. "It's an emergency!"

He felt painful tugging in his right arm. Without much of a choice, a half-asleep Najiroh was hauled from the comforts of the bed and was forced to open his heavy-lidded eyes.

"Wha-?" he grunted, yawning unabashedly. All the last traces of drowsiness left him, though, when he finally registered his wife's face.

She was horror-stricken.

"What happened?" he said urgently, his ears and eyes suddenly alert for any disturbances within the room.

"It's Ryoma," Rinko said, her voice shaking in panic.

Nanjiroh's eyes widened. "Seishounen? Why? Did something happen?" He was about to bolt out the door to the direction of Ryoma's bedroom up the stairs when he noticed the piece of paper that his wife was clutching with both of her hands.

A gnawing feeling overcame him. "What's that?" he asked, very slowly.

Wordlessly, Rinko handed him the paper and nervously watched as he read the short paragraph written on the center of the page, unmistakably with Ryoma's messy handwriting:

_Mother, Father, I am thankful for your guidance. Be assured that all your efforts will not be in vain. When I return, I will be worthy. When I return, you will see me for who I truly am._

_Do not worry about me. I will take care._

_Your Son,  
>Ryoma<em>

"I came to his room to bring him breakfast," she explained tersely, as Nanjiroh grew quieter. "Then I noticed something was wrong. His cat didn't come up to me when I opened the door and his closet was left wide open. When I checked, all his clothes are gone!" She rested a hand on her forehead and lightly massaged her temples, as if to soothe some invisible pain away. "I looked for his passbooks in my things, but couldn't find any of them. I tried calling his cell, but it's out of coverage area. I also called Kevin to ask him if Ryoma came to sleep over or something, but he said he hadn't seen him for the last two weeks. Should we call the police? Heaven knows where that child had wound up to—"

"Let him be."

Rinko blinked in bewilderment at her husband's words. "I'm sorry?"

Nanjiroh handed the paper back to her and stretched his arms over his head. He then started making his way towards the door.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"Outside," her husband replied, without turning to look at her. "I'm getting some fresh air."

"Our son is missing and all you're looking for is _fresh air?" _Rinko almost shrieked.

"Relax, dear wife," Nanjiroh said, pausing at the doorway long enough to smirk at her haughtily. "It's only just beginning."

Rinko looked like she wanted to strangle someone to death. "What exactly is just beginning?"

The trademark Echizen smirk widened. "Ryoma's journey to his self."

Rinko snorted somewhat derisively, earning a bemused look from him. "Look, I understand the philosophy of it all," the matriarch began, some of her color and characteristic perkiness returning. "But let's focus on the matter at hand. Do you even know where he is? You know Ryoma, he doesn't have a clue on how to survive all by himself!" She began pacing the length of the master's bedroom in deep worry. "Oh my poor boy. He has absolutely no idea what do out there when he's alone!"

Nanjiroh chuckled humorlessly. "Don't treat your son like some overgrown baby," he said casually. "Besides, if it's Ryoma, there is only one possible place to look for."

That made Rinko stop pacing completely, which rarely ever happened.

"_Where?_"

* * *

><p>"Flight JK4567 has now landed on Narita International Airport, local time 3:00PM. Please check your ticket, passport and other personal belongings before leaving the plane. Thank you for flying with Japan Airlines, and we look forward to be in your service once again."<p>

Ryoma Echizen pulled his white Fila cap lower to cover his eyes as he traversed the wide length of Narita International Airport's lobby, lost among the sea of newly-arrived passengers. Subconsciously, he adjusted the strap of the violin case slung on his left shoulder, giving a small grunt as he tugged at the animal cage he was carrying with his other free hand. An exasperated purr and a loud hiss came from it in response.

"Sorry, Karupin," he said resignedly. He never was a fan of plane rides, if the positively mutinous expression in his face was anything to go by. The twelve-hour direct flight from US to Japan did nothing but fuel the animosity he had towards travelling by air. Even if he did love visiting his motherland, the oceans setting them apart would need a lot of getting used to.

Fully anticipating a severe case of jet lag, Ryoma robotically hobbled his way to the baggage claim area, having really no concrete plan on what to do once he stepped out of the airport. He had everything planned—or he thought he had—until the plane finally took off and he realized, for the first time, that he would be alone, and there was little to no room for chickening out. There would be no annoying fathers and brothers hovering over him, no doting mother to always keep him in track of his itinerary and no Kevin to save his sorry ass in case things went out of control…

_Hmp, who says things will go out of control? _Ryoma was always in control. Or he hoped he was. _At least I have Karupin. _He automatically glanced down at the Himalayan cat's cage, as if to seek assurance. Besides, he thought determinedly, it was already too late to change his mind and return home.

Thinking back forty-eight hours ago, Ryoma had been completely confident that his runaway plan would work out. He had been contemplating on his next big step for the past few months, and things had only become too real for him when he overheard his parents' conversation roughly twenty-four hours ago.

"_In terms of technique and skill, it's safe to say that seishounen has managed to surpass any of our expectations. Though looking at him now, I don't know what exactly I am seeing_."

Nanjiroh's words had unexpectedly struck Ryoma. Once the initial anger and frustration subsided, Ryoma realized that it struck him because it was _true. _Somewhere down his road to excellence, he had lost something important. It was something akin to finally coming so close to finding an answer to a difficult question, only to realize that, in the process of seeking answers, you had forgotten what the question was all about in the first place. Ryoma had spent all his childhood years striving to be good in the violin…but for what purpose, exactly?

He was sure he had one when he was younger, but for the life of him couldn't remember what it was. It was like waking up to find one's self in the middle of a race, without knowing how it started or where to end it. All he knew was that he couldn't lose, he couldn't lag behind. He had to win.

So why had he run away to Japan? Ryoma's reasoning was unexpectedly simple. He believed that in order to better understand a person's actions, one should look back where they had come from. Ryoma, even though raised in America, had fiercely identified with his Japanese bloodline more than his Western upbringing. Maybe staying in Japan for a while could make him know himself better. He'd figured out that some time alone and away from the things he was all too familiar with would break off the monotonous and pointless cycle that his life had inadvertently turned into.

Once he had his baggage with him, Ryoma hobbled towards the taxi lane by the exit of the airport. Karupin meowed impatiently from his cage, indicating that he was getting restless from being cooped up in such a small space for so long.

Ryoma thought that he knew the feeling very well.

* * *

><p>"Bai-bai, Nanako-senseiiiii!"<p>

"Bye bye!" Nanako Meino replied with a smile and a wave of her hand, watching as her last student was towed away from the classroom by his mother. Once she was alone in the music room, she heaved a great sigh and slumped back on her seat, deciding that she had a pretty hectic but fun-filled Saturday. As always, it was her weekly music lessons in the daycare that had put her in such a good mood.

Stretching her arms over her head, she got onto her feet and started neatly stacking up the music sheets strewn across her desk. A warm mug of caramel coffee at her favorite coffee shop afterwards was all it would take to complete her already wonderful day. She thought of inviting a friend over to make things all the more picturesque.

Just as she was to reach for her mobile phone to dial up the first person who crossed her mind, the contraption rang and vibrated loudly, the screen flashing to indicate an incoming call from an unknown number. Nanako blinked twice, before she pressed 'Answer' and brought the phone to her ear.

"Hello?_" _she greeted, securing the phone with her neck and shoulder as she continued fixing her things.

"_Hello, Nanako_." The relatively deep, male voice that greeted her back made her pause as she tried hard to figure out the identity of its owner. "_Are you busy?_"

"Who is this please?" she replied pleasantly, when efforts to put a name or face to go with the voice were proven to be futile.

She was surprised to hear a haughty sniff from the other side of the line. "_I didn't think you'd forget so easily, Onee-chan_," the caller said, in a painfully familiar cocky tone.

"I'm sorry," she said, frowning slightly. "But I have no time for guessing games."

"_Is that so?_" He sounded highly amused. "_Do I have to put glue on your hair again to remind you of our good old days?"_

"I don't think you're—" Nanako's eyes widened like saucers when it hit her.

"Ryoma," she breathed. "Is that you?"

She could almost hear him smirk. _"Bingo. Mada mada dane."_

* * *

><p>Nanako Meino was arguably the only member of the opposite sex that Ryoma had not considered as annoying. Both he and his brother Ryoga had always looked up to her, and—as young kids—often fought over to win her undivided attention. As an older cousin, Nanako used to babysit Ryoma during the Echizen family's visits in the past, and Ryoma thought that no one else could have a babysitter as fun as she was. True enough, Nanako had later on become a daycare owner, teaching music to toddlers and living her life free from the family's tradition of pursuing a musical career in Europe.<p>

Sometimes, Ryoma envied her for living such a carefree life.

"Now tell me what bad wind brought you here," said cousin started from the seat across from him, stirring her cup of cappuccino gently.

Ryoma leaned back on his couch and regarded the busy streets outside the coffee shop through the glass window on his side. "I was bored," he lied.

"Hmm." Nanako took a sip from her drink. "I saw your brother on the local news the other day."

He blinked in surprise. "I hope it's not because he caused a full-blown scandal," he said wryly, a mental image of his brother's smirking face forming in his mind.

"His band's coming to Japan tomorrow, I think. For their concert."

"Ah." But deep inside, Ryoma was mentally punching himself. How could he possibly _forget _that Ryoga's band will be having a concert tour in Japan sometime within the month? What if he was already informed of Ryoma's little rebellion and was out to haul his ass back to Pennsylvania?

But they couldn't possibly know that he went to Japan, could they? _Right_. And even if they did, it would take more than Ryoga to make him go back.

"Ryoomaaaa! Yoo-hoo!"

He snapped back to his senses and rearranged his face to look bored. "Hn?"

Nanako was eyeing him a little weirdly. "I asked if you'd like to watch your brother's concert with me. Some weeks ago he sent me VIP tickets and I still have one left."

"No, thanks."

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," Ryoma replied, somewhat forcibly.

"You're forgetting that I once babysat you, young man," Nanako said matter-of-factly. "I always exactly knew whenever you're trying to hide the fact that you drank more Ponta than what your mother told you to." She smiled as Ryoma pretended to be engrossed with his espresso. "Tell Nanako-nee-chan's what's up."

"I told you, nothing's up."

"Should I give your parents a call, then?"

Ryoma was wrong to think that Nanako didn't share any traits with the other women of the Echizen clan. "Look," he started impatiently. "I'm not brewing up some trouble, okay? I promise."

"You never call me unless you're in trouble," Nanako said suspiciously.

_She has a point. _"I just want to ask you if you know any place where I can stay."

To his relief, Nanako decided to let him slip unscathed. For now. "How long are you staying?" she asked clinically. "I know a few good hotels around the area that will be convenient for you."

"No. I mean…" At this, he leaned forward a little and lowered his voice. "Somewhere more discrete, long-term and…" He hesitated for a heartbeat. "…_my parents will not easily find_."

"But why? Isn't it a little—wait a minute." She narrowed her eyes at him, then at his considerably bulky luggage. As if feeling the growing tension, Karupin emitted another crooked "Mrreeeoww" from his cage.

Then she gasped. "Ryoma Echizen! Don't tell me you've run away!" Ryoma tried to shush her but she went on full motherly mode and began to reprimand him in an instant. "I should have known the moment you popped up looking like you brought with you your entire closet. Are you out of your mind? I can't believe you have the audacity to do this!"

"Calm down!" Ryoma hissed, frantically looking around to see if others have heard them. "Let me explain to you, alright?"

As he told her the whole story in a clipped, detached tone, Nanako had remained quiet and kept her comments to herself. Once he was done, she sighed heavily and ran a hand through her long, dark hair.

"So basically," she finally said, "you want me to be your ultimate accomplice."

"Will you help me?" Ryoma waited for her reaction in bated breath. Nanako looked defiant, until her face finally relaxed in defeat.

"Rinko-ba-chan will positively _kill _me for this," she mumbled under her breath, making Ryoma smile triumphantly.

"I've always known I'm your favorite cousin, Onee-chan."

"Shut up."

* * *

><p>"I don't think it's much, but I'm sure even Nanjiroh-jii won't expect you to be living in here."<p>

Ryoma regarded the four-walled single room apartment contemplatively. Like what Nanako said, it wasn't much. It was pretty bare and gloomy with its dirty-white walls and faded green floor, and there was only enough room for two people to sleep in. There was a glass door right across the front door that led to a small balcony. At least the rent was pretty cheap, considering that the bathroom, mini-kitchen and lighting were in good condition. The strategic location of the apartment complex in relation to supermarkets, restaurants and the metro station was also a bonus point. That, and the fact that they allowed residents to keep pets inside the unit.

"Well, what do you think?" Nanako said. "I used to stay in this complex when I was a uni student."

"Your university's nearby?" Ryoma asked, curiously. He knew that Nanako graduated from one of the top-notch music universities in Japan, which was why many of their relatives thought that she was completely wasting her talents running a daycare instead of debuting in the performance stage. Maybe he could check it out later and meet some interesting musicians and potential mentors who can help him with his current mission.

Nanako nodded. "This place is popular to Seishun University students. I believe that some of the more expensive units in this complex have built-in upright pianos in them."

"That's neat."

"So, you're getting this one?"

Ryoma gave the room another sweeping look. "Yes," he said, making up his mind. "I'm moving in today."

Later that night, when Nanako finally decided to call it a day and left Ryoma to "contemplate and repent on his actions," the young, green-haired man laid down on his futon and stared unblinkingly at the ceiling, not an ounce of drowsiness in his body. From his side, Karupin yawned and curled himself into a furry ball, his head buried in his master's heat and hidden away from the world.

_Am I doing it right? _For the first time since he had hatched his plan, Ryoma doubted himself. Fueled by his frustration and determination, he up and went without really thinking twice about what could happen to him. All he knew was that something within him—His instincts, perhaps?—told him that this was right place to be. But he knew that gut feeling could only take him so far. He had to devise a new plan, a concrete step-by-step procedure of what to do first thing tomorrow morning…

That was when he realized that he didn't know _anything_ about this place. _First thing to do is buy a map_, he thought, inwardly laughing at the silliness of it all. _Damn Ryoma, you really outdid yourself this time. This would put Ryoga's former rebellious acts to utter shame. After all, he never had the balls to travel across the world to "search for himself," did he?_

Ryoma turned to his side and caught sight of the sleek, black case of his violin, illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through the glass door. He vaguely realized that he hadn't touched his violin the whole day, as he was caught up with the drastic changes that his life underwent in a span of twenty-four hours. He wondered what his parents were doing. He could almost see it, Rinko's worried face, and for a moment he felt guilty for doing this to his mother. Nanjiroh, on the other hand…well. Ryoma couldn't picture his father's expression. Was he furious, or was he smirking, shaking his head and saying "_Mada mada daze, seishounen" _in that mocking tone? Ryoma should probably contact them sooner or later, just to let them know that he's alright and yes, he will return someday…

_Raindrops_.

That was the first thing Ryoma thought when his ears prickled to the sound of a faint, beautiful melody. _Is this a dream?_ Almost as if in a trance, he sat up and tried to locate the source of the music. _Someone nearby is playing the piano, _his mind registered. _Perhaps from the room next to mine? _He concentrated on the utmost precision and emotion put in each key, recognizing the piece as Chopin's Prelude No. 15, otherwise known as "Raindrop." No wonder it gave him the impression of rain at first.

But whoever was playing, they were good, superb. To be able to make Ryoma accurately visualize the image conveyed in the piece right from the very beginning, one must be as good as Ryoma's own father—or be Chopin himself. Ryoma had met tons of good pianists in his life, but no one had left an impression in him as much as this one did. The music was one with nature, like a part of a landscape, reminiscent of a distant and all-too familiar place…

Familiar?

Ryoma could remember a single time when he had witnessed someone play the piano so purely, as if it was an extension of a human soul. It was a long time ago—about nine years ago, to be precise. It was during a time when his sense of competitiveness with his brother had yet to grow, a time when he played the violin not to impress others, but just to enjoy himself. She was a small girl with brown hair tied in twin braids, with big, shiny eyes that hid nothing of what she felt. She performed a duet with him, happily playing away with Nanjiroh's piano.

Her name was…

Ryoma bolted upright, startling Karupin in the process. Ignoring his cat's sounds of protest, he got onto his feet, opened the glass door and stepped out into the balcony. He leaned forward and craned his neck to the left and right, trying to locate where the music was coming from. The balconies right next to his were dark, indicating that the occupants were either out or already sleeping. But the sounds were louder than ever, so it couldn't be that far away.

_Above me? _Ryoma couldn't get a good view from his spot, so he resorted to just standing there and savoring the music, staring blankly at the cloudless night sky above. He had almost forgotten one thing about being in Japan.

"_When I'm good enough, I'll play with you once again."_

That was what she said nine years ago. It did not look like it, but he had never forgotten those words, because he couldn't forget how good she was with the piano. What he was feeling right now was similar to what he felt at that time, when they were playing that Beethoven piece together. In fact, the feeling was so familiar that it gave him goose bumps.

It's possible, isn't it? She's from Japan. He's now in Japan.

Could it be—?

The music stopped.

"Get a grip, Ryoma," he said out loud, coming back to his senses. "You can't possibly think that you've just heard Sakuno Ryuzaki play." He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. "What are your chances of finding her in this concrete jungle?" Stupid jetlag giving him ridiculous ideas.

He went back inside and tucked himself in, feeling more awake than ever. It was now his turn to ask himself:

_Am I good enough to play with Sakuno once again?_

* * *

><p>Sakuno Ryuzaki shivered at the sudden gust of cold wind from outside. She looked up from her music sheets and realized that she had left the glass door to the balcony wide open. She quickly stood from the piano stool and stepped out to breathe the early autumn air.<p>

"How embarrassing, the neighboring rooms must have heard me playing at this time of the night," she muttered to herself. Yawning and stretching, she went back inside and closed the door.

_It's a beautiful night, _she thought with a smile, glancing at the cloudless sky above before pulling the curtains shut.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I know, it's been forever since I last updated this! I hope that anyone can still remember what this story is all about. Anyway, there is an obvious lack of RyoSak action in this chapter, but not to worry! The next chapter will have more juice in it. I just felt that it's necessary to have a build-up chappie such as this one to better portray the inner war that's going on inside Ryoma.

Reviews will be really, really lovely. :)


	3. Fermata

**Capriccio**

Summary: Violin virtuoso Ryoma Echizen goes to Japan for a break from his career and meets Sakuno Ryuzaki, a piano prodigy with whom he'd made a promise nine years ago. Some things have changed, however.  
>Pairing(s): RyoSak, FujiSak, AtobeAnn<br>Warning(s): AU, musical jargon

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable is not mine.

_I think I broke a record for updating a story twice within a month! Hooraay! In other news, I switched the rating of this story from_ **K-plus **_to_**T** _for language, just to be safe._

**PLEASE READ:** This_ chapter will feature a violin-harp-cello trio arrangement of _Carlos Gardel's Por Una Cabeza. _I have posted on my proflie the link to the YouTube video featuring the performance from which I based this chapter from. ;) For a better reading experience, I suggest that you listen to the video while reading. I'm only bothering to type this because this version of_ Por Una Cabeza _is one of my absolute favorites!_

_More AN's at the the bottom of the chapter. For the meantime, enjoy. ;)_

* * *

><p><strong>Fermata<strong>

_Hold; pause_

* * *

><p>Ryoma awoke to the sound of two loud voices drifting in through the thin walls of his room.<p>

"You fuckin' dumped your trash on my doorstep!"

"Watch where you're pointing that finger, Viper! Are you looking for a fight?"

"You're the only one who eats this kind of shit, Peach! No point in denying!"

"You really are asking for a piece of me, you really are."

"Bring it on, bastard!"

"Who're you calling bastard, _bastard_?"

"Now you're asking for it!"

For a moment, Ryoma had forgotten where he was and what he had been doing before waking up to this commotion that practically shook the floors and walls of his apartment. He never was a morning person, and the people who knew him well would really know better than to put this into test. True enough, after having his finger almost bitten off, poor Kevin Smith had never set foot in a five-meter radius of a sleeping Ryoma ever again. Even Nanjiroh, whose favorite pastime was to pester his younger son, would not dare wake Ryoma for a lifetime subscription to _Penthouse_ and _Playboy_. The only known person who had made it out alive with all limbs intact upon waking him earlier than noon was Rinko Echizen, which wasn't really saying much, as the Echizen matriarch was herself another force to be reckoned with.

With that said, these people who had just committed the very forbidden certainly didn't know what was coming. They continued bickering outside Ryoma's door at the top of their lungs, oblivious to the doom that was about to befall them.

As the old saying went, "_Let sleeping dragons lie_."

With a glare that could make a plant shrivel up and die on the spot, Ryoma stood and slammed his front door open, effectively silencing the two foolish men who had unwittingly opened the gates of Hell and brought the wrath of an Echizen's foul morning mood.

"Shut. _The fuck. _Up." His messy dark green hair formed a shadow over his golden-brown eyes, which were wide and bloodshot from staying up all night due to jet lag. From inside the apartment, Karupin scampered away to the bathroom for cover, sensing the formidable aura that was surrounding his master's slouched form in the doorframe.

However—

"YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!" the two young men—only about a year or two older than Ryoma—shouted in his face so loudly that it effectively duped whatever dark aura the young Echizen was emanating. Without so much as a second thought, they resumed their argument, completely ignoring Ryoma's presence in their midst.

It was an incident so bizarre that it chased away every ounce of drowsiness in Ryoma's body, rendering him speechless with shock. He never thought that the day would come that someone—let alone _two people_—could shrug him off so easily when he was in one of his diabolical moods.

"Momo, Kaidoh, STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!" a third male voice joined the cacophony of hurled insults and swearwords, and Ryoma barely registered as a tall figure darted past him and formed a wall between the two fighting strangers. Surprisingly, the move made them stop—albeit momentarily.

This tall figure was actually another young man. He looked like he was in his early twenties, possessing a bowl haircut and kind, green eyes that were now glaring at the two guilty parties like how a mother would at his misbehaving children.

"You just woke the whole building with your voices," he said disapprovingly, looking from one angry face to another. "What is it about this time?"

"You ask him!" the smaller of the two spat, glowering at his adversary with obvious hatred. He was wearing a green bandanna around his head, and his mouth was pulled down in a heavy scowl. "He threw his trash at my door!"

"Whatever, Viper!" the other man— with spiky hair and violet eyes—snapped back with equal ferocity. "How many times do I have to tell you that I have no idea what you're whining about? You should stop banging on random people's doors first thing in the goddamn morning and start accusing them of crimes they didn't even do!"

"Just 'fess up, Peach!"

The bowl-haircut man had opened his mouth for another tirade but was beaten to it by Ryoma, who had finally recovered from the initial shock long enough to pent up his rage.

"_Will all of you get the hell out of my doorstep?_" he hollered furiously, making the three other men turn to him and blink, as if they had just noticed him standing there for the first time.

"_What are you looking at?" _Ryoma continued to yell, but the three didn't budge from their spot and kept ogling at him in bewilderment. They were looking at him as if he was speaking in an alien language—which, he belatedly realized, he _was_. In his anger, he had unconsciously spoken in straight English, a force of habit developed from years of being doted on by Ryoga and those Neanderthals he called his band members.

Riled up by the men's unresponsiveness and wide-eyed stares, Ryoma turned on his heel and stomped back inside his apartment. "_Imbeciles," _he muttered under his breath, before slamming his door in their faces and dropping facedown on his futon.

He was back to sleep in a matter of three seconds.

* * *

><p>There was loud knocking on the door.<p>

_In the name of everything holy, would this place ever let a man sleep in peace? _Ryoma ignored the noise and buried his face in his pillow.

_Knock, knock, knock!_

Karupin purred loudly, padding towards the door and scratching it with his paws noisily.

_Knock, knock, knock!_

_Scratch, scratch, scratch. _"Mreeeoowwwww!"

_KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK._

"Christ!" Ryoma said to himself, his ears—which were naturally sensitive to sounds—unable to stand the racket anymore. With great effort, he got up and went to the door, inwardly swearing that if this turned out to be something as stupid as the previous fiasco, someone would definitely pay the price. With interest.

Swearwords (English and Japanese alike) ready to lash out at the tip of his tongue, Ryoma pulled the door open.

He blinked.

He recognized the person on his doorstep as one of the three men who had unwittingly disrupted him from his slumber earlier. He was the one with the spiky hair and violet eyes—referred to as 'Peach,' if Ryoma had heard (and translated) correctly. Instead of the previous angry expression, though, 'Peach' was donning a friendly smile this time, a hand resting at the back of his head in an apologetic manner.

"Yo," the violet-eyed man started. "You must be the new guy. I heard from the landlady."

"What do you want," Ryoma responded bluntly.

"Chill," the stranger said, putting his hands up before him. "I just want to apologize for the trouble we caused you earlier. I have better manners."

That made Ryoma openly roll his eyes. "I seriously doubt that."

To his mild surprise, the other man chuckled good-naturedly at his antics. "I'm Takeshi Momoshiro, by the way," he said, reaching out a hand. "But everyone calls me Momo-chan. I live next door!"

_Ah, hence the allusion to the fruit_, Ryoma thought, eyeing Momoshiro's offered hand as if it was full of germs.

Momoshiro stared when Ryoma didn't shake his hand. "What, isn't this how you Americans greet each other?" he said wonderingly.

"Do I look like an American to you?" Ryoma deadpanned.

"Well, you _did _speak English before," Momoshiro said, letting his rejected hand fall limply back to his side. "And I've heard you came from overseas."

Exactly where did he hear that?

"Look, I really am _sorry _for earlier. I really am."

Ryoma leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why don't you leave me alone and let me go back sleep, then?" he said, scowling heavily.

"What, you're still sleeping?" Momoshiro yelled in his face.

Was this person stupid or something? "Geez, do I have to repeat myself?"

"But it's two in the afternoon!" he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh I'm sorry, did I need your permission to sleep for as long as I want?" Sometimes, the sheer ignorance of some people surprised Ryoma. True enough, Momoshiro looked like he didn't even realize that Ryoma was making a fool out of him. He scratched his head in apparent deep thought and regarded Ryoma with the innocence of a curious five-year-old.

"Sleeping in till the afternoon is not good," he remarked with an easy smile. "Since you're new around here and all, why don't you let me give you a small tour around the building, Mr.…?"

"Echizen," Ryoma drawled, straightening up and stepping behind his door. "And no thanks."

He was about to shut the door in Momoshiro's face for the second time that day when the latter's hand shot up to keep him from doing so.

"Wait a minute," Momoshiro said, a strange look on his face. "Echizen…that's your name?"

"I believe I made that point clear about three seconds ago," Ryoma said through gritted teeth. Seriously, the longer this conversation went, the more he was convinced that this man had the IQ of a goldfish. "Now, if you'll excuse me." He attempted to close the door again, but Momoshiro's hand didn't budge.

"Come to think of it," the other man continued to ponder out loud, "You _do _look like the vocalist of _The Samurai's Sons_, Ryoga Echizen."

Ryoma visibly cringed at that, a small action that did not go unnoticed by Momoshiro.

"No way!" His violet eyes widened in realization. "Can you be related to him? It's a known fact that Nanjiroh Echizen has two sons!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ryoma feigned an incredulous look. "Stop wasting my time!"

"You can't fool me, you can't!" Momoshiro insisted, and Ryoma had to take a step back as the other man leaned his face closer for better inspection. "I can't call myself a self-respecting musician if I don't know all about the legendary Nanjiroh Echizen, including info on his sons!"

"You're a _musician?" _Ryoma said in surprise, momentarily overlooking the fact that his cover had just been blown up.

"Duh!" Momoshiro's face lit up. "Everyone in this building is!" His lips formed a playful smirk and Ryoma realized with a pang that with the little to no resistance he was showing, he might as well have openly confirmed Momoshiro's suspicions.

"So…_Ryoma Echizen, _huh?" the other man said, visibly stunned. "Can't believe that Echizen-sama's son is living right next door! What brings you here? You're going to Seishun University too?"

Ryoma opened his mouth for a retort, but decided against it the last minute. Being away from Japan for most part of his life, he had not the slightest clue on Nanjiroh's fame among the Japanese. He'd always thought that tales of his father's stardom were complete and utter bull, considering their definitely unreliable source (being Nanjiroh himself). If he'd known any better, he would not have unwittingly given out his real surname that easily, especially to a loudmouth like Momoshiro.

But what's done was done. All Ryoma had to do now was some damage control.

"Look-" The golden-eyed young man hesitated. "—_Momo_. Let's make a few things loud and clear." He ran a hand in his dark-green hair, vaguely noting that it was still tousled from his sleep. "I'm not exactly supposed to be harping around with my name plastered on my forehead. So you're gonna do me a favor by keeping what you know of my identity to yourself."

"Not possible," Momoshiro said casually. Noticing Ryoma's bewildered look, he said, "You have to know that the people in this building are like family. We keep no secrets from each other." He shook his head at some private thought. "And even if I keep my mouth shut, word's bound to get out sooner than later."

Ryoma frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

All of a sudden, another male voice spoke up right next to Ryoma, almost making him jump out of his skin in shock.

"Ryoma Echizen. Age: 17. Height: 170.2 centimeters. Birthday: December 25th. Major instrument: violin. Has won the Prague Spring International Music Competition for two consecutive years, won the Paganini Concore in his first year of joining, and is a rumored participant for the next International Tchaikovsky Competition. Chances of him being in Japan: 12 percent. Chances of encountering him today: 0.5 percent. Chances of living in the same apartment building as him: 0.001 percent."

"Told you so," Momoshiro laughed, turning to the tall, spiky-haired man with thick square glasses who had suddenly appeared beside Ryoma. "Yo, Inui-senpai!"

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ryoma Echizen," the man called Inui said, seemingly oblivious to the livid look on the violin virtuoso's face. "I am Sadaharu Inui. I live in 304, right above your unit."

Ryoma blanched. _Where the hell did this man come from? And how come he knows a lot of things about me? _The more he stayed in this place, the more he doubted the sanity of the people around him.

"You look like you'd seen a ghost," Momoshiro said, highly amused. "Don't worry about it, Echizen. You'll get used to Inui-senpai eventually."

_I have to leave this goddamn place as soon as possible!_

"Chances of Echizen thinking about escape: 99.5 percent."

Momoshiro laughed again. "I'm afraid it's too late for that, kiddo!"

At that exact moment, Ryoma's handheld rang from inside his apartment. He never thought he'd ever heard such a beautiful melody in his life. "Gotta pick that up," he said to Momoshiro and Inui quickly. "See you around."

"See yah-" Momoshiro barely finished his sentence when the younger boy practically ran inside and shut him out.

There were sounds of faint scratching as Inui produced a green notebook and a pencil and began furiously scribbling something down. "Ii data."

From the other side of the door, Ryoma rummaged around his things for his elusive phone. He finally found it stuck underneath a pile of fresh clothes he left lying on the floor, the Caller ID 'Nanako Meino' flashing angrily on the screen. He wasted no time in answering it.

"Nanako, you'll pay for this,_" _he seethed to the earpiece.

"_Good afternoon to you too, Ryoma-chan!_" his cousin responded cheerfully. "_What's up?_"

"Just what is this place?" he almost shouted. "Is this some zoo? Are you punishing me?"

"_Uhm, I don't really know what you're talking about._" There was a faint sound from Nanako's end of the line; another female voice speaking. "_Anyway," _she continued,_ "if you're free—which I'm sure you are—come to Seishun U as fast as you can. I need your help."_

Ryoma's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What for?"

"_Oh I'm sure you won't mind," _Nanako insisted. "_If you're not here in half an hour, I'm calling Rinko-ba-chan."_

"That card is getting old, Nanako-nee."

"_Doesn't mean it won't work on you, does it?"_

True. "Fine."

"_That's great! Oh, and don't forget to bring your violin, 'kay?"_

That was curious, but Ryoma decided not to question her any further. "Sure." Anything would be better than to stay in this building surrounded by the likes of Inui and Momoshiro.

* * *

><p>Seishun University, which housed some of Japan's finest schools for the arts, was a fifty-hectare compound located in the heart of Tokyo. It was particularly famous for its Conservatory of Music, which had produced a long list of world-renowned musicians for six generations, including the pianists Sumire Ryuzaki and Nanjiroh Echizen. Admission to the Conservatory was known to be strict and highly competitive, with freshmen students amounting to a maximum of only three hundred each year. Many would say that being in Seishun U was a golden ticket to a successful musical career, as it had deep connections with other conservatories around the globe.<p>

The Echizen clan, being natural artists, had the age-old tradition of entering Seishun University's School of Fine Arts and Conservatory of Music. Ryoma, however, had never really considered pursuing higher education. If he had to go to college, he wanted to take something other than a music degree. Having spent all seventeen years of his life honing his craft, he deemed he did not need further formal education in the violin. His mother and other personal mentors would have easily sufficed for the job.

Stepping on university grounds, therefore, gave Ryoma an odd, out-of-place feeling. His violin case slung on one shoulder, he traversed the spacious lawns of Seishun University, openly observing the students milling around him. As someone homeschooled in his childhood years, he wasn't really used to socializing with boys and girls of his age. His family's lifestyle had exposed him to the adult society at such a young age, making him more comfortable when speaking to older people. Teenagers were, in his own opinion, too loud for his liking.

_Like that one, _he absently thought, noticing a boy around his age practicing the oboe not too far from him. _He keeps missing his notes. _A little ways from the boy was a group of girls trying to perform an aria. Ryoma thought they sounded like screaming banshees.

_Not good. Not good at all._

One good thing about Seishun U, though, was that it was an open university. There would be no nosy guards who would ask Ryoma for his school ID as long as he didn't use the libraries or practice rooms. Moreover, they had a huge lawn and a big cafeteria. This would certainly be an ideal place to hang around for the duration of his stay.

Nanako's text told him that she was in one of the practice rooms on the third floor of the Conservatory. Thankfully, Ryoma was saved from the trouble of asking directions by three noisy boys, who happened to pass him by while having an extremely loud conversation.

"Where are we going, Horio-kun?" the bald boy asked the one on his left, who looked like the leader of the group.

"To the Conservatory, of course," the one with the unibrow and a yellow-and-orange pinstriped shirt—Horio—said. "Can't waste any more precious time, can I? The concours are just around the corner, after all."

Ryoma, having overheard the "To the conservatory" part, decided to follow them from a short distance.

"Wow, you're joining the concours?" the third boy said in awe. "But you're just a freshman! I bet a lot of upperclassmen from the A Orchestra will be joining as well."

"That's right," Horio said, sounding smug for some reason. The black bag he was carrying told Ryoma that he was a violinist. "At first I wasn't really confident, but after he heard me play Ishikawa-sensei told me that he'll put my name on the recommendation list! I have two years of experience in joining music competitions, after all."

"You're amazing, Horio-kun!"

"Can we watch you on your prelims?"

Horio was clearly enjoying his friends' attention. "Well, I heard that only the finals are open to the public. The rest are closed-doors."

"Aw man."

"And here I thought I can watch Ryuzaki-san's audition!"

Ryoma's ears prickled.

"Ryuzaki? You mean Sakuno Ryuzaki, the prodigy from the piano department?"

_Sakuno Ryuzaki? Piano prodigy?_

"Oh, you mean Ryuzaki-sensei's granddaughter?" Horio said, sounding a bit miffed as the topic veered away from him. "So she's joining the concours too, huh…"

_Ryuzaki-sensei's granddaughter._

"Horio-kun, if you happen to meet her, can you get me an autograph?"

"Me too!"

_Sakuno Ryuzaki goes to Seishun University? _What were the odds that this Sakuno Ryuzaki was the very same girl Ryoma had met a long time ago? Since he had arrived in Japan, he had had thoughts on the whereabouts of _that_ girl. It was a curious thing, as he never really pegged himself as a person who easily remembered things, especially people's faces and names. From that time she stayed in the Echizen household for summer vacation together with her grandmother nine years ago until only recently, Ryoma had not paid her any particular thought. So why the sudden rush of nostalgia now?

Why did he feel like he needed to see her again?

Before he even knew what he was doing, Ryoma sped up and tapped Horio's shoulder.

"Hey."

Horio stopped in his tracks and distractedly looked at him over his shoulder. "Yeah?" His two friends also paused and turned to look at the dark-green-haired young man.

"You said this Sakuno Ryuzaki goes to Seishun U?" Ryoma inquired. "Is she Sumire Ryuzaki's granddaughter?"

"Err, yeah," Horio said, blinking at him. "She's a freshman, too. I believe Katsuo here has met her." He nodded his head towards his bald companion.

"We're classmates in some of my subjects," Katsuo interjected with a nod, a manic glint in his eyes. "Are you a Sakuno fan too?"

Ryoma shrugged. "Not really." _Last time we met, she was still _mada mada dane_._

"But she's amazing, isn't she?" Katsuo insisted.

Somehow, that made the violin virtuoso crack a smile so small that it wasn't visible even to his present companions. "Hn," he grunted. _I guess she is._

"Hey, you're from the strings section too!" Horio suddenly exclaimed, pointing a finger at the violin case slung on Ryoma's shoulder. "I'm Horio, a freshman. What's your name?"

"…" Ryoma thought of an answer, fast.

The three boys continued looking at him expectedly.

"R-Ryou," he finally said, somewhat lamely. "Ryou Takeuchi." _Smooth_.

"Well, are you on your way to class, too?" Horio said conversationally, as all four of them resumed walking.

"No. Can you tell me where the practice rooms are, though?"

"Sure, we'll drop you there."

All throughout the short journey to the Conservatory, Horio chattered animatedly about his talent in the violin, to which Ryoma absently nodded, not really listening to a word he'd been saying. He was inwardly grateful when they finally entered an antique-looking building and Horio and the others paused at the majestic stairway at the lobby to look at him.

"Just go up the stairs. The practice rooms are along the West Wing on the third floor," Katsuo informed Ryoma. "There's a sign at the third floor landing, so I think you won't be lost."

"Thanks," Ryoma said, nodding briefly. "See you around."

"See you, Takeuchi!" Horio called out to his retreating back. "Let's practice together some time!"

_Ryou Takeuchi. _Ryoma smiled at his makeshift new identity. It was a stroke of genius to use his mother's maiden name. He couldn't wait to tell Nanako about this.

He finally spotted said cousin in the practice room at the end of a long hallway on third floor. From his viewpoint at the small door window, Ryoma saw that Nanako was sitting on a stool together with her harp, talking to another person that was outside his line of vision. For one anxious moment, Ryoma wondered if Nanako had mentioned his stay in Japan to another person. Being exposed to his neighbors at the apartment was already more than he could handle.

After a moment's hesitation, he knocked thrice and pushed the door open.

"What took you so long?" Nanako reprimanded as soon as she turned her head to him. "We've been waiting for ages!"

"If you had the common sense of giving me _directions _on how to get here, I wouldn't have a hard time at all," he retorted.

Nanako rolled her eyes and turned back to her companion, who turned out to be another young woman with short, brown hair and wide, gray eyes. "Ann-chan, I want you to meet my cousin, Ryo—"

"_Takeuchi_," Ryoma interjected quickly, earning a confused look from his cousin and a bemused one from her friend. "Ryou Takeuchi. Cheers."

Nanako took another moment staring at him, before she figured out what he was playing at and decided to go along with his little charade. "Right. Well, _Ryou, _this is Ann Tachibana, one of my kouhai. She's currently in her sophomore year, and the best in her batch, if I say so myself."

"Hi," Ann Tachibana said with a friendly smile. "I play the cello. I've heard from Nanako-senpai that you're great with the violin."

Ryoma nodded at her in acknowledgement and took one of the two remaining empty chairs in the room. "So," he said to Nanako, "what did you need me for?"

At this, Nanako and Ann exchanged a fleeting look. "Well," his cousin started. "We're in a bit of a pinch right now."

Ryoma scowled.

"Seishun U holds a music festival at fall every year," she continued. "Now, the school board usually invites alumni of the Conservatory to perform during the opening ceremony, and this year, they chose me as one of the performers. I only have a week left for the preparations, so I'm in a rush. I decided to perform a trio with violin and cello. But as you can see-" She made a sweeping gesture at the room with her hand. "—my violinist was caught in an emergency and so can't attend today's practice. I'd really love to move the practice tomorrow instead, but I already have an appointment and the others won't be available for the rest of the week. So…"

"You want me to be the substitute," Ryoma finished.

Nanako clapped her hands together hopefully. "It's just for today, so Ann-chan and I can practice!"

"Do I have the option to say no?" he said sarcastically, already opening his violin case. "What are we playing?"

It was Ann who gave him the music sheets. "A trio arrangement of Carlos Gardel's _Por Una Cabeza_," she said, observing Ryoma with open curiosity. "Have you played it before?"

He shrugged, his eyes quickly scanning the marked pages with expertise. "No."

Ann looked at Nanako dubiously as Ryoma proceeded to fix his bow and tune his violin. "Are you sure this is gonna work? You didn't give Takeuchi-san enough time to study the score," she said worriedly.

Nanako shook her head smilingly. "Oh I'm sure he's up for the job." She adjusted herself in her seat and performed a glissando to check the harp's tuning.

As he observed her from the corner of his eye, Ryoma absently noted that it had been quite a while since he last witnessed his cousin play her major instrument. Nanako was one of the rare harpists in the family—if not in the university, or the whole of Japan for that matter. Given her unique talent, it was indeed hard to believe that she had forsaken what promising career awaited her in favor of looking after snot-nosed little kids who ate glue and soiled their pants. Echizen women—or the female population in general—eternally mystified Ryoma.

"Tell me when you're ready," she said to the others.

Ann picked up her cello from its case on the floor and rested it between her legs. She minutely checked her tuning, and, satisfied with the results, also positioned herself with a brief nod of her head to indicate that she was ready.

Ryoma gave another brief run-through with his strings, sensing the familiar thrill that he usually felt before every performance he made. After a long pull of his bow at the E-string, he pointedly met the eye of both Nanako and Ann, signaling them to start.

With a simultaneous breath, the three of them glanced at their music sheets and, after a heartbeat's pause, hit the first notes.

The powerful melody exuded by the violin stunned Ann so much that she almost forgot to play her own part. She resisted the strong urge to stare at the young man before her, whose fingers moved over the board so quickly that they almost became a faint blur. Despite hardly having any time to study the piece, Ryou Takeuchi performed the violin's intro without a single miss—in fact, he played it so perfectly that Ann doubted if it really was his first time playing this version of _Por Una Cabeza_.

She then caught Nanako's eye and her senpai smiled knowingly, as if to tell her, "_I told you so."_

Ryoma 's brow knitted slightly as he tried to get lost in the music while keeping an eye on the music sheets splayed before him at the same time. The arrangement was done beautifully, and, by the looks of it, done by a student as well. He made a mental note to ask Nanako about it later.

Since he was used to performing solo, his father used to remark on his poor ability to play duets, trios or quartets. Before, Ryoma didn't really see that as a disadvantage, as he preferred playing alone. He had seen countless performances done by his parents—and even he found their duets heavenly—but he never saw himself in the shoes of his mother, playing in tandem with a partner like they were two inseparable parts of a whole.

He had not realized the beauty of playing in harmony with others until he himself had experienced a real duet for the first time.

Again, he was brought back an event nine years ago, which involved a seven-year-old Sakuno Ryuzaki asking him to play a duet with him. Since then, Ryoma had developed a curiosity towards the piano and started to attend lessons with his father, who, aside from teaching him how to play, played duets with him upon the boy's incessant request.

Ryoma reveled at how his violin sounded completely different when in synch with another instrument. It was as if his music was taking another form, an overwhelming presence that would invade all his senses. All of a sudden, he would also be aware of his partner's breathing, pauses and emotions—and could feel them too as if they were his own sensations. He could no longer be seen as himself, but as a part of a bigger organism, larger than life and almost magical in its nature.

As the piece reached its climax, Ryoma's playing intensified alongside with the harp and the cello. Their notes intertwined, and he felt as if he had lost control over his arms and let his instincts guide his bow and fingers. This was music drawn from raw emotion: unrestrained and full of passion.

With a flourish, the three of them ended the piece. Hushed, pregnant silence filled the room for a moment, before Ann finally spoke up.

"Wow," she breathed, looking like she had just been snapped out from a daze.

"Good job, guys!" Nanako praised, clapping her hands enthusiastically. "It's been so long since I heard you play," she told Ryoma in an undertone. "I have forgotten how good you are!"

"Don't be so easily impressed," Ryoma said monotonously, though his lips were curled in a smile. He personally thought—but would never admit out loud, of course—that Nanako and Ann weren't any bad either. He could even say that they could compete with international standards.

Their mini-celebration was interrupted, though, when a male voice spoke up from the doorway.

"Heh, Looks like I'm not needed anymore."

Nanako, Ann and Ryoma turned to the source of the voice and spotted a lean figure standing by the door. At first glance, Ryoma thought that the man was female, judging by the length of his honey-brown hair and doll-like facial features. He was smiling at them brightly, his eyes completely hidden behind their lids. A violin case was propped against the wall at his side.

"Fuji-kun!" Nanako exclaimed. "I didn't think you'd make it here!"

The man named Fuji straightened up and took wide steps forward. "I came here as fast as I could," he said in a velvety voice, coming to a halt right next to where Ryoma was sitting and then looking down at the golden-eyed young man.

"That was a great performance," he said by the way of a greeting, his smile never wavering. "You should absolutely take my place!"

"And you should keep track of your schedule more," Ryoma bit back, returning the stranger's gaze coldly.

Fuji didn't seem to be taken aback at all by his abrasive behavior. "I apologize if I have inconvenienced you in any way," he said, still smiling. "I'm Syuusuke Fuji. I'm currently a senior student majoring in the violin. "

Ryoma gave him another onceover and muttered "_Mada mada dane" _under his breath, loud enough for everyone else to hear.

"I'm sorry for my cousin's rudeness, Fuji-kun," Nanako cut in sweetly, giving her cousin a pointed look. "He's just a really shy boy underneath that icy exterior."

Syuusuke Fuji chuckled. "Oh believe me, Nanako-senpai," he said. "I _know._"

Ryoma, for some unexplainable reason, felt a slight shiver run down his spine as Fuji continued to stare at him with that unnerving smile plastered on his feminine face. Somehow, his gaze was making him feel uncomfortable, as if he was being X-rayed.

There was something definitely _not normal_ about this guy.

"So what was your emergency all about?" Ann asked Fuji, and Ryoma was grateful when he finally looked away.

"Oh, I had to pick someone up," he said cheerfully.

"Who?" Nanako wanted to know.

Fuji beamed at her. "I'm glad you asked." Upon the others' curious stares, he leaned back and turned his head towards the door. "You can come in now!"

The occupants of the room turned as the door opened and in came a young woman wearing a simple blue dress and a cashmere sweater. Her auburn hair was tied up in a casual bun, and her chocolate brown, doe-like eyes twinkled merrily against the room's fluorescent light. She smiled widely at them, waving her hand in silent greeting.

Nanako and Ann both squealed in mixed surprise and delight.

"_SAKUNO-CHAN!_"

Ryoma's breath hitched.

"Ryuzaki-san asked me to come with her for some important errands," Fuji explained, as the three young women crowded and started to exchange pleasantries. "She said she wanted to surprise you both."

"You never told me you've come back to Japan!" Ann pouted.

"I'm really sorry," Sakuno said with a chuckle. "I just came back two days ago. I had to move in to my new place and all!"

"You moved out of Ryuzaki-sensei's house?" Nanako said, visibly surprised.

"It was my idea," Sakuno replied. "I wanted to try living alone." That was when her eyes roved around the room and finally found Ryoma's still form seated at one corner.

She stared.

Nanako followed the younger girl's gaze and slapped a hand at her forehead. "Oh, how rude of me!" she fussed. "Sakuno-chan, this is my cousin, Ryou Takeuchi. He came her as Fuji-kun's substitute. Ryou-" She looked at Ryoma with a proud smile. "This is Sakuno Ryuzaki. I'm sure you've heard of her before!"

Sakuno blushed lightly. "Nanako-senpai, don't say that." She turned back to Ryoma and bowed lightly. "It's nice to meet you, Takeuchi-san."

"How can I _not _say that, Sakuno-chan? You're one of Japan's greatest pianists!" Nanako gushed. "Ryou here came from the States, and even he knows of you! Don't you, Ryou?"

"Aa," Ryoma said noncommittally, his gaze still focused on the auburn-haired girl.

As they all continued to make small talk, Ryoma remained seated, his eyes never leaving Sakuno Ryuzaki. She had grown so much from that twin-braided girl from his memories that he barely even recognized her. Nevertheless, what made him confirm her identity even before she was introduced by Nanako were her big, expressive eyes. They had a very familiar feel.

He knew right then that she was _that _girl.

Now the problem was how to approach her. Ryoma, for a fleeting moment, hoped that she would recognize him at once, but even he knew that was too much to ask for. It had been almost a decade since they last saw each other, after all, not to mention that they were very young at that time. Ryoma himself had quite transformed in nine years—and quite handsomely, at that.

"Since Fuji-kun is here now," Nanako said after a while, "I guess we can resume practice?"

Ann nodded in agreement. "We better do. The opening ceremony is in one week's time!"

"I'll just stay here and watch you practice," Sakuno said, already pulling out a chair and placing it against the wall.

"That's fine," Nanako conceded. "Ryou here will keep you company."

A lucky chance! Ryoma swiftly fixed his things and vacated his seat for Fuji to fill in. Since there were no free chairs left, he opted to stand beside Sakuno, who immediately turned to him with a bright smile the moment he settled against the wall.

"Is it your first time here in Japan?" she asked him.

Ryoma shook his head. "My family visits at least once a year," he said in a clipped tone, his eyes trained ahead of him.

"Where are you based?"

At that moment, Ryoma slowly turned to her, his golden-brown eyes meeting her brown ones in a meaningful stare. "Pennsylvania," he replied. "Have you been there before?"

_Now, that would definitely ring some bells. _He waited patiently for her reaction. From the background, Fuji performed some impressive drills, but for the first time in a long while, Ryoma honestly couldn't care less about music. Right now, all of his attention was focused on the young woman sitting next to him.

Sakuno looked like she was thinking hard. "Hmmm," she said. "I don't think so."

He blinked. "What?"

She smiled at him apologetically. "I don't think I've ever been to Pennsylvania. But I'd like to visit it someday."

She must have heard the question wrong. "Are you sure?" he couldn't help but press on.

Sakuno eyed him a little confusedly. "I guess," she said slowly. "Is there something wrong with that?"

_She forgot_, the words echoed in his mind.

Ryoma didn't say anything and turned away, pretending to be engrossed with the practice on-going before them. _Sakuno Ryuzaki forgot. _Although he had wanted to cross paths with her again since he arrived in Japan, he didn't really expect it to happen so soon. However, what was more unexpected was that she couldn't remember_ him_. Discovering that she had not felt the same way all this time had given him a surge of unidentifiable emotions. Was he supposed to be hurt? Disappointed? Nonplussed?

He didn't exactly know.

But then he realized something. Maybe if he told her his real name, she would finally remember. He was sure that the name Ryoma Echizen would be more than enough to refresh her memory. She had made that promise to him all those years ago, after all.

"I'm not really Ryou Takeuchi," he began after a small pause.

Sakuno's head snapped back to him in obvious bewilderment. "I'm sorry?"

Taking a deep breath, Ryoma looked back at her. "I'm actually Ryoma Echizen."

Sakuno's mouth fell open. "Huh?"

Even Ryoma had to admit that he sounded ludicrous. "I ran away from home," he tried to explain as briefly as possible. "I have to hide under a different name so my parents and brother won't find out I'm here."

Sakuno took one long moment gaping at him, as if he had just suddenly grown two heads. "Echizen," she echoed. "Like Nanjiroh Echizen's _Echizen_?"

Ryoma nodded. "He's my father."

"You mean you're _the _Ryoma Echizen?" Sakuno piped up, her voice becoming strained with incredulity. "Son of the great pianist Nanjiroh Echizen? The youngest first placer of Prague International? The _violin virtuoso?_"

"That's the one." When she continued staring disbelievingly at him, he impatiently added, "Is it so hard to believe? I thought you would have known."

"I…don't understand." He could feel apprehension vibrating off her. "Is this a joke?"

He inwardly heaved a great sigh. "Don't you remember at all?" he prodded on. "We met nine years ago."

That made Sakuno pause. _Finally, _Ryoma thought. _I think she's finally seeing some light._

But then her face fell.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about." For the first time since they got introduced, she frowned at him. "I don't recall ever meeting you—or Ryoma Echizen—in person."

"I _am _Ryoma Echizen," Ryoma said forcibly. He could not believe that this was happening. "And you met me when you were seven years old."

She gave him a wary glance. "Right."

Ryoma was about to snap a more heated response when Nanako, Ann and Fuji began to play, successfully prying Sakuno's attention away him and making Ryoma feel like the conversation had just ended. He inwardly huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, resisting the urge to shake the girl violently until he could make her remember.

He almost felt cheated.

_Sakuno Ryuzaki had forgotten all about me._

* * *

><p><strong>Tivia: <strong>Did you know that the music competitions mentioned in this chapter actually exist in reality?

1.) **Prague Spring**** International Music Competition **is held annually during the Prague Spring International Music Festival, a permanent showcase for outstanding performing artists, symphony orchestras and chamber music ensembles of the world. The Prague Spring has a particular focus in supporting younger performers. (_Source: Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)_

2.)** The **Paganini Competition** (or **Premio Paganini** or Paganini Concore) **is an international violin competition named after the famed virtuoso and founder of contemporary violin technique Niccolo Paganini. Created in 1954, it has been carried out ever since in the months of September and October. The "Paganini Competition" is one of the most important violin competitions. It is held every two years at "Carlo Felice" theatre in Genoa, Italy**. **(_Source: Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)_

3.) **Tschaikovsky**** International Competition** is a classical music competition held every four years in Moscow, Russia for pianists, violinists, and cellists between 16 and 30 years of age, and singers between 19 and 32 years of age. The competition is named after Russian composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky and is an active member of the World Federation of International Music Competitions. (_Source: Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)_

**A/N: **_Thank you so much for the reviews, guys! Honestly, I didn't think _Capriccio_ will get much attention since I haven't updated in, like, forever, so you have no idea how happy I was to see that some people still follow this story. Ryoma finally meets Sakuno once again, yay! I assure you, from here on, the plot will begin to progress significantly._

_Do you think including the rest of the Seigaku regulars (plus the Freshman Trio!) in the plotline is worth the read? I must admit that making Momo and Kaidoh fight all the time, with Oishi intervening and Inui popping out of nowhere, is a guilty plot muse of mine. Haha! I'm rambling too much._

_Please review. I would really love to know what you think of my progress so far. :)_


	4. Poco a poco

Summary: Violin virtuoso Ryoma Echizen goes to Japan for a break from his career and meets Sakuno Ryuzaki, a piano prodigy with whom he'd made a promise nine years ago. Some things have changed, however.  
>Pairing(s): RyoSak, FujiSak, AtobeAnn<br>Warning(s): AU, musical jargon

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable is not mine.

__**A/N: **I did a lot of firsts in this chapter. After all, it's the first time I won't be featuring any musical piece and also the first time I'd be writing from Sakuno's POV. I hope you still enjoy it, as it primarily focuses on Ryoma and Sakuno's relationship (or lack thereof?).

I'd also like to thank the reviewer who corrected me in the previous chapter regarding Ryoma's birthday. It's December 24th, not December 25th. My bad!

More A/N's at the bottom of the chapter. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Poco a poco<strong>  
><em>Little by little<em>

* * *

><p><em>There was a sleek, snow-white grand piano sitting at the center of a wide room with faded blue walls and a wooden floor. It was bright; natural daylight freely seeped in through wide glass windows that overlooked a wide expanse of greenery. It seemed like an ethereal place, where the air was unnaturally mute and everything glowed under the sunlight.<em>

_There was someone in the room, standing still by the grand piano. He looked like a boy no older than eight, his dark hair and clothes clashing greatly with the whiteness of his surroundings. His face was not visible as he was facing the opposite direction, seemingly lost in his own world. In his left hand was his bow and violin._

_Then, all of a sudden, he seemed to sense something. He turned his head sideways to look over his shoulder, but the sunlight pouring in from a nearby window had obscured the visible part of his face save from the playful smirk in his lips. His dark green hair swayed in a non-existent wind, glistening as it was caught in the light._

_His mouth began to slowly move, but no sounds came out. He was undoubtedly saying something—it was his voice which couldn't be carried across the room, as if the air itself was jammed with a sound barrier._

_It was then when blinding light suddenly enveloped the whole room, drowning everything else in a sea of impenetrable whiteness._

_The strangely familiar boy kept smiling until he, too, was lost in the brightness._

* * *

><p>Sakuno slowly opened her eyes and had to squint as early morning sunlight hit her directly in the face. <em>Not again, <em>she inwardly groaned, realizing that she had, as always, woken up before her alarm clock went off.

It was a Saturday, and what made it all the better was that it was Sakuno's first free day in what felt like two months. The past few weeks had been a flurry of activity, what with the summer music camp she attended in Italy, the start of her first semester in college and her moving in to her new apartment. Today, though, she had all day just for herself, which was a rare occurrence, as she had been accustomed to attending private lessons on Saturday mornings back in her grandmother's home in the suburbs.

After a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes, Sakuno went to heat water on the stove while snooping around her fridge for a passable breakfast. To her disappointment, she had only found a carton of tomato juice, some peanut butter spread and cheddar cheese. Due to her busy schedule, she had completely overlooked to stock up on her grocery.

_Obaa-chan won't approve, _she thought with a smile, opting to place herself at the upright piano across the room as she waited for the water to boil. On the panel, she had left some sheet music from last night's quick practice, heavily marked with her own handwriting. Absently, she placed her right hand on the keyboard and began lazily playing a simple tune out of sheer habit.

She paused and visibly cringed when she had tapped a horrendously out-of-tune key.

"Ah, the string snapped," she said to herself, shaking her head. This piano, clearly bought by the landlady from a secondhand store, was battered with old age, much so that she was told it required tuning at least once a month. Sakuno already had plans of replacing it so it could finally retire from what could have been a life full of suffering from transient users—who had more often than not deprived it of proper care, if the countless old scratches visible on the instrument's body were anything to go by.

_You poor thing, _she thought, running a hand along the dark wood of the lid. She had talked to the landlady about selling it out, but she doubted that anyone would be interested to buy such an obsolete instrument. Sakuno had adamantly refused when the landlady proposed to throw it away instead, thinking that any musical instrument that she held, no matter how broken or old, should not be given such harsh treatment. It was a quirk of hers that amused her grandmother and friends to no end.

If only she knew anyone who would be interested…

An idea struck her.

"Looks like you'll soon be saved from misery," she said brightly, heaving herself up as a whistling noise came from the mini-kitchen. "I know just the person who's willing to keep you."

Half-an-hour later, as Sakuno stood outside locking the door to her unit, her next-door neighbor and fellow Seishun U student, Sadaharu Inui, came out of his room, carrying with him a large bottle filled with an unidentifiable, dangerous-looking green substance. He turned as he locked his door and noticed the brown-haired girl standing there in the hallway.

"Ah, good morning, Ryuzaki-san," he greeted amiably.

"Good morning, Inui-senpai," she said, smiling at him. "What have you got there?"

"Oh, this?" Inui lifted the bottle for better viewing. "It's juice. I made it." He lightly shook the container, making the mysterious liquid inside swirl ominously. "Wanna try it?"

Sakuno paled a little at the thought. "Err, no thanks," she replied, a little too quickly. Even she, someone with who had the general kindheartedness and innocence that put her in trouble more often than not, had the inkling that Inui's juice was not safe for human consumption. "Maybe next time."

Inui looked disappointed. "Is that so? Hmm. Maybe I'll go to Kaidoh and let him have a cup or two. Have a good day, then, Ryuzaki-san."

"Have a good day too," she said with a small bow, watching as the tall young man turned on his heel and walked away. _Poor Kaidoh-senpai, he'd never know what's coming…_

The weather that day was bright and breezy. Sakuno smiled to herself as she openly observed her surroundings, hugging her sweater closer to her body as another gust of wind swept by. As a child, she never was fond of going outdoors like most kids, preferring to stay inside the confines of her grandmother's house and practicing the piano for hours on end. Her family had always encouraged her to play with other children during summer, a time when they were out of school and spent most of their time outside their homes, but she didn't have any particular interest in befriending anyone, perhaps aside from some of the children of the Ryuzaki family friends, such as Tomoka Osakada, Ann Tachibana and Nanako Meino, all of whom were nice and understanding enough and, more importantly, shared Sakuno's passion for music.

There was also a time when Sakuno was twelve years old where her parents, primarily concerned with their daughter's lonesomeness and sheltered attitude – something they thought to be a result of being homeschooled for six years—contemplated on sending her to a private middle school in Tokyo in the hopes of improving her socialization skills. Sakuno, albeit a little scared, had conceded, curious of a world beyond that which solely revolved around her piano, family and selected number of friends.

Unfortunately, though, it was an idea that never came to fruition…

Sakuno turned a corner and trudged along a less-crowded street lined with quaint-looking establishments that specialized on selling antiques and other novelty products. Situated between a secondhand bookstore and a Mediterranean-themed coffee shop, right across a small store that sold decorative items made from recyclables, was Sakuno's favorite music store, Haritatsu's. It was a place she often visited for a few years now, as its owner was one of her grandmother's old colleagues. Aside from that, the store held a wonderful collection of CD's and recordings of past international competitions, which was why it was popular to classical music hobbyists around this part of Tokyo.

As she pushed open the glass door to the shop, wind chimes from overhead announced her arrival, and a balding head was seen to pop up from behind the antique counter at one side of the store.

"Ah, if it isn't the young Ryuzaki," the shop owner—an old man named Haritatsu—said by the way of a greeting, eyeing Sakuno with a kind smile. "How's it going?"

"Good morning, Haritatsu-san," Sakuno greeted back, making a beeline towards him. "I'm in college."

"Are you already at that age?" Haritatsu said in bemusement. "Boy, how time flies! Seems only yesterday when you were that little girl tagged along by your grandmother in all those recitals. How is she, by the way?"

"In good health."

The old man chuckled. "Send my regards." He set aside the inventory log he had been peering on when Sakuno arrived and clasped his hands together on the countertop. "So, how can I help you?"

"The piano at my apartment needs new strings," Sakuno said resignedly. "It belongs to the landlady, but I've got to shoulder the maintenance. It's a little on the rundown side, so it's not in top shape."

"Ah, so you finally moved out of Sumire's, eh?" Haritatsu said, nodding to himself. "Let me see if I can send one of my boys to fix your problem." He unceremoniously turned on his heel and disappeared through a doorway behind the counter, leaving Sakuno looking around the shop with renewed interest.

It hadn't changed much since the last time she visited half-a-year ago. One whole wall was filled entirely with guitars of all shapes and sizes, while the other was occupied by a tall glass shelf encasing flutes and stringed instruments. A sleek cello was propped up at one corner, next to a drum set and an upright piano that Haritatsu never put up for sale. To Sakuno's left, a spiral staircase led up to the upper extension, where Haritatsu's famed music library was situated.

"Let's see." Haritatsu's voice announced his arrival, bringing Sakuno back to her senses. "One of my tuners is free Monday afternoon. Will that do?"

"Yes, thank you," she said gratefully, as the old man handed her a pen and an order slip where she could put her address. "Actually, I was planning to sell the poor thing and bring in the barely used upright back at Obaa-chan's house. Are you interested, Haritatsu-san?"

The old man looked thoughtful. "I'm afraid I've got not much space to accommodate another piano in my quarters. Though I do know a friend or two who might want to hear about your offer."

As she handed back the order slip and the shop owner gave her the contact details of his old friend-a violin-maker in Chiba who had a penchant for old pianos—a voice came drifting from above the spiral staircase, shortly followed by resounding footsteps as someone went down the stairs.

"Old man, where should I put the boxes again?"

Sakuno distractedly turned to the source of the voice and saw a young man, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt and the face towel slung around his neck indicating that he had been doing strenuous activities around the store. But then, her eyes widened as she finally registered his facial features.

"_Y-You!_" she gasped, recognizing the dark green hair and golden-brown eyes of the new arrival.

Ryou Takeuchi—or Ryoma Echizen, as he claimed himself to be—stared at her rather blandly, appearing unsurprised by her reaction. "Sakuno Ryuzaki," he said simply.

Haritatsu looked visibly intrigued. "O-ho," he said, breaking the ice that had slowly formed between the two youngsters. "You know who this young man is, Ryuzaki ojou-san?"

Sakuno continued eyeing Ryoma hesitantly. "Actually, Haritatsu-san," she said, sounding a bit wary. "I'm not _really _sure about that."

She had met this boy about three days ago, when she gave a surprise visit to her friends at Seishun U. While Nanako had introduced him as a cousin of hers named Ryou Takeuchi, the boy had secretly told her that they have met before, and—as if that wasn't enough revelation—he was actually Nanjiroh Echizen's son, who ran away from his home and was now in hiding for fear of being found out by his family. Upon her disbelieving reaction, he had grunted "_Forget it," _hoisted his violin case and left the practice room without a second glance, leaving her gaping at his retreating back and the rest of her friends baffled at the sudden turn of events.

She had decided not to say anything when Nanako later on asked what had transpired between the two.

And for a good reason, too.

"What do you mean?" Haritatsu's question brought her out of her reverie. He then turned to regard the quiet, younger man with a genuinely confounded look. "Didn't know you already made friends around here, Ryoma. I haven't pegged you for the friendly type."

Sakuno's ears perked up. _Ryoma. _To shed some light on her growing confusion, she had searched Ryoma Echizen on the Internet the moment she came home to the apartment after their encounter. She realized then that unlike his other family members, Ryoma was very elusive from the media, the only pictures of him available on Google being the official photographs of the violin competitions he had joined and—once or twice—family pictures of the Echizen family included in online biographies of Nanjiroh Echizen, where he was depicted to be no older than four years old, recognizable only with his messy, dark-green hair.

But then, now that she thought of it, there could be hardly any mistake. The boy she met three days ago bore remarkable resemblance with Ryoga Echizen's online photos, at the very least. Moreover, upon some light investigation, she had discovered that Nanako's mother's maiden name was Echizen. Her friend had been a little reluctant and even suspicious when Sakuno had randomly called her up the following day just to ask that bit of information from her, but Ryoga Echizen's timely concert in Japan gave her an excuse to be curious of the Echizen family background. Besides, if she remembered correctly, Nanako must have mentioned it to her by passing before.

_There is only one way to find out._

"Haritatsu-san?" Sakuno said. She pointed a finger at the other young man. "Is he really Ryoma Echizen?"

The old man blinked. "Eh?" He turned to the dark-green-haired boy confusedly. "Well," he shrugged, "unless these eyes are thoroughly deceiving me, I believe this is the very boy Nanjiroh had been taking with him whenever he dropped by the shop to pay me a visit."

_So he really _is_ Ryoma Echizen, after all._

The dark-green-haired boy in question merely shrugged and made to climb back up the stairs. "Never mind, I now remember where to put the boxes," he trailed off.

He had already taken two steps when Sakuno finally mustered the nerve to speak up.

"Wait," she said in a small voice. When he didn't seem to hear her, she bit her lip and called him out. "E-Echizen-kun!"

He paused, but didn't look back at her.

_Have we really met nine years ago?_

"Uhh." She fidgeted uncomfortably on her spot, unsure of what to do next. Finally, after a moment of quick thinking, she turned to Haritatsu, who was watching the scene unfolding before him with utmost interest.

"Haritatsu-san, can I borrow him for a while?"

* * *

><p>Sakuno distracted herself by pretending to look interested in her surroundings as she walked along the familiar path towards the nearest grocery store. Next to her, keeping up with her place in long, easy strides, was Ryoma Echizen, his face the perfect impression of a blank slate. Since they left Haritatsu's, the violin virtuoso had not spoken a single word, and the heavy silence was beginning to suffocate Sakuno.<p>

_Why is he isn't saying anything? Shouldn't he at least ask what I want from him? _She heaved a great sigh. _What am I talking about? I should be the one saying something here! I was the one who dragged him from his work!_

But her body seemed to choose not to cooperate with her brain at the moment, so she remained tight-lippeduntil they reached an intersection road and had to wait for the walk sign to turn green.

"U-Uhmm…" she started. She hated how her voice came out unnaturally high-pitched.

His eyes glanced at her direction, indicating that he was listening.

"S-Supermarket," she blurted out rather unintelligibly.

His eyebrows raised in question.

Why was it suddenly so hard to speak to him? "…I have to buy my grocery," she finally managed to say without stuttering. The warm feeling in her cheeks told her that she was blushing.

To her surprise, Ryoma breathed out a snort. "At least that one hasn't changed," he remarked casually.

"E-Eh?"

The walk sign finally turned green, and Ryoma stepped forward along with the other pedestrians. Sakuno had to catch up to his wide strides.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked him once they crossed the street.

He kept his eyes ahead of him. "You're still quite the stutterer."

_I still am?_ Sakuno wanted to ask, but then the large sign of the supermarket came into view, distracting her from the conversation at hand.

"You called me off my job to help you with your grocery?" Ryoma asked blandly moments later, as he followed her along the condiments aisle. Sakuno turned around and saw him scrutinizing a pack of powdered oregano with a frown on his face.

"Well, no," she said honestly, dropping a pack of pepper and salt in her basket. "I wanted to talk to you."

"In the supermarket?"

She flushed a little. "N-No."

"Hehh."

"Haritatsu-san seems to know you very well," she said, shifting the topic.

He shrugged nonchalantly and put the oregano back to the shelf. "He's friends with oyaji," he replied.

"Aren't your parents worried about you?" Sakuno couldn't help but voice out, remembering his primary reason for being in Japan—the question on the story's credibility aside.

He gave her a side-long glance, making her shrink back a little. The last thing she wanted to do was to stick her nose into somebody else's business.

"I'll take care of myself," Ryoma Echizen responded simply, a tone of finality in his voice.

_That's beside the point, _she wanted to say, but thought the better of it. She hadn't boldly asked him to come with her just so she could preach and admonish him for his actions. She had to keep her goals in mind.

The rest of the grocery shopping went by without incident. Ryoma, in a completely unexpected show of chivalry, wordlessly carried Sakuno's grocery bags despite her protests. To make up for all the time she had stolen—which he could have spent earning money instead—she volunteered to pay for his lunch.

"Where would you like to eat, Echizen-kun?" she asked him, already feeling less intimidated around the young man's presence. Although aloof, Ryoma Echizen didn't seem like a very bad guy at all.

When he didn't reply, she added, "Come on, let me buy you lunch. I've taken so much of your time already."

"Japanese," he finally said. Noticing Sakuno's baffled look, he explained, "I want Japanese food."

They had ended up in a ramen restaurant along the main street. Sakuno had been leading the way to a popular yakiniku restaurant that she and Tomoka frequented, only to realize a moment later that Ryoma had long disappeared from her side. After a moment of panic, she spotted him standing in front of a huge billboard that announced the grand opening of a ramen restaurant in a nearby location. Like an innocent child, he turned to her and pointed at the sign, his eyes silently asking for her permission.

So that was how they found themselves in Ramen Land_,_ seated at a booth next to the glass window that overlooked the busy street outside. She watched, fascinated, when their orders finally arrived and Ryoma, after clapping his hands together and muttering a quick thanksgiving, began attacking his bowl like a hungry lion.

"Itadakimasu," she said with a smile, before she too started on her meal.

It had been a long while before the strangely comfortable silence hovering over their table was broken once more.

"You said you wanted to talk?"

Ryoma's initiative for conversation made Sakuno look up abruptly, a string of noodles still dangling from her mouth. Quickly realizing how unsightly she must have looked like, she sucked in the noodles and chewed and swallowed as fast as she could.

The young man watched her in silent amusement.

"Yes. Uh, thank you for being here, Echizen-kun," she started.

He rested his elbow on the table and propped his chin against a fist. "Ryoma," he cut in.

Sakuno blinked. "What?"

"Call me Ryoma." The intensity of his amber gaze on hers was making her feel weird—but definitely not in a negative way. "Everyone does."

She thought that by "everyone," he meant the people he grew up with in the States. "Okay," she said. "Ryoma-kun." She tested the name in her tongue. Calling Ryoma Echizen by his first name felt like she had crossed an invisible barrier, as if she was given permission to relax and act more familiar towards him. It was a pleasant feeling, over all.

"So what is it, Ryuzaki?" he repeated, and Sakuno found it ironic that while he insisted to be addressed less formally, he was calling her by her surname. She decided to overlook the tiny detail, nonetheless.

"I was thinking about what you said to me before," she said. "When we met a few days ago."

His silence told her to go on.

"Echize—Ryoma-kun," she quickly corrected herself, "I'm afraid that I really don't remember having met you before, I'm sorry."

His eyes travelled from her face to the scene outside the window, although Sakuno knew that he wasn't really drinking in the sight.

"I told you to forget what I said, didn't I?" he said in a flat voice.

"I know you're not lying, Ryoma-kun."

That made him look back at her, his face betraying a flicker of surprise and confusion.

Sakuno exhaled loudly. "Where did we meet nine years ago?"

Ryoma eyed her for another moment before responding with, "In our house in Pennsylvania."

"You said I was with Obaa-chan," she said.

"Yes. You stayed with us for three days."

"Were we friends?"

That seemed to make him think for a while. "Not exactly," he finally said slowly. "We never had communication after that. That is, until now."

She nodded. Then, finally plucking up the courage, she dropped the question that she wanted to ask the most.

"_Did something important happen between us?_"

The side of his mouth twitched, and she felt herself blushing profusely. "I-I mean," she quickly amended, "There might be something important about you that I'm forgetting, something important that I wasn't supposed to forget. If there is something like that, please tell me, Ryoma-kun."

He seemed to mull over her question. After what felt like hours, he lifted his chin from his fist and leaned forward in his seat.

"Ryuzaki, why can't you remember?" he asked.

Sakuno smiled at him sadly. "I didn't want to forget, Ryoma-kun," she said in an undertone. She averted her eyes from him and focused instead on her half-finished ramen bowl.

Ryoma scowled. "I don't follow."

"Some…circumstances made me a bit…different." Sakuno bit her lip. "I sound ridiculous, don't I?" she said in defeat.

He snorted again. "You're talking to the one who, out-of-the-blue, claimed he's Ryoma Echizen in undercover," he said dully. "What could be worse?"

Sakuno stared directly at his golden-brown eyes, feeling their intensity and…

Was that sincerity? Softness?

"_WhenIwastwelveIfellsick_," she blurted out even before she knew it. She blushed seven shades of red when Ryoma regarded her blankly.

"You have to speak clearer than that," he pointed out.

"Sorry," she said in a small voice. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "You see," she said slowly, "When I was twelve, I fell really sick, and everyone thought I wouldn't make it…"

"_Ryuzaki-san, your daughter is diagnosed with primary amoebic meningoencephalitis, an inflammation of the brain and membranes that protect the central nervous system. A bacterial pathogen has caused this, and I'm afraid to say that it is a disease with a high mortality rate."_

"_What does that mean, sensei?" Sakuno's mother's voice trembled violently as she tried to speak in-between sobs. "Will our Sakuno be alright?"_

"_It means she has low chances of recovering from it. But then, there have been case before that had positively responded to the treatment, so there is still the possibility of being cured."_

"_Please do everything you can to save her, sensei," Sakuno's father said, enveloping his wife in a one-armed hug as his teary-eyed gaze rested on Sakuno, who was lying unconscious on the hospital bed, life-preserving instruments attached to her body. "She's all we've got."_

_The doctor nodded grimly. "We will. For the meantime, let's all hope and pray for the best." He finally left the room to give the family some privacy, and for a moment, it was quiet aside from the slow, steady beeping of the monitor by the bed._

"_Okaa-san and Otou-san are here, Sakuno. Please open your eyes."_

"But then, by some miracle, I responded to the treatment and managed to get well after several months," Sakuno continued, a distant look in her eyes. "My grandmother always told me that it was the happiest day in her life." She shook her head. "That was until…"

"_Sakuno…?"_

_Chocolate-brown eyes slowly opened for the first time in more than a month, registering the tear-stained faces beaming down at her in uncontained happiness._

"_Sakuno! Can you hear me? It's me, Okaa-san!"_

"_Can you see Obaa-chan, Sakuno?"_

"_Kami-sama, you're finally awake!"_

_Her throat felt extremely dry and uncomfortable as a tube jammed in her esophagus made it difficult for her to swallow. She furrowed her eyebrows, trying her best to form audible words._

"_Who…"_

"_Shh!" the old woman shushed the two other people. "She's saying something!" _

"_Who…" Sakuno coughed a little. "Who are you…?"_

"…I realized I couldn't remember anything before I woke up." Sakuno avoided looking Ryoma in the eye by concentrating on her now lukewarm bowl. "Anything, aside from playing the piano."

After a moment of pregnant silence, she finally lifted her gaze and smiled at the young man. "Well, it's not like I completely forgot _everything," _she said lightly. "Sometimes, I remember small details of my past memories, like my favorite doll or a certain place that used to hold importance for me. The hard part was warming up to my parents, grandmother and friends. Since I barely could remember anything about them, it was like getting to know and learning to love them right from scratch."

Silence.

Sakuno's heart sank a little. "I know," she mumbled. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? I'd buy your runaway story any time of the day."

However, much to her surprise, Ryoma _chuckled_. "You're kidding, right?" he said, his lips forming a playful smirk. "Anyway." He lifted his bowl and drank in the last dregs of his soup. "Forgetting doesn't matter. At least _you're_ still here."

That actually made Sakuno smile. It was the first time that a person had not made a big deal out of her sob story, and—she had to admit—it was somehow a refreshing change.

"Are you sure nothing really happened between us when we were kids?" she responded, a little teasingly.

"Hn." His smirk widened considerably. "We've met again nine years later," he said simply. "That's all that matters."

* * *

><p>"You live here?"<p>

Sakuno paused and looked back at Ryoma over her shoulder. "Yes," she said. Noticing the weird look on his face, she added, "Is there something wrong with that?"

For some reason, the idea seemed to amuse him. "Where to?" he asked instead, her grocery bags still in his hands.

"I live in 303," she said conversationally, leading the way up the stairs of the apartment complex. "It's the first time that I lived apart from my family, so I'm still a bit on the adjustment stage…Here we are." They paused in front a door with a brass '304' placed on the wall right next to it. "You can drop the bags at the doorstep."

Once he had done what he was told, Sakuno smiled up at Ryoma. "Thank you, Ryoma-kun."

"I better be going back to the old man," Ryoma said.

"I'm sorry to hold you off like this."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "He never really needed an extra hand anyway. He just gave me a job because I needed it."

She chuckled. "Even so."

"Hn." With a small nod, Ryoma turned on his heel and began making his way back to the stairway. Halfway through the hallway, Sakuno called out to his back.

"See you around!"

He lazily waved a hand in response, before he was finally gone.

_Well, it's been a strange day so far, _she thought, fishing out her keys from her purse and unlocking her door. _But a good one. _She bent down and picked up the grocery bags Ryoma had left on the doorstep.

"I see you've already met the new neighbor, Ryuzaki-san."

Sakuno shrieked and almost tripped on her on her own foot as she violently swiveled around at Sadaharu Inui's voice from right behind her.

"I-Inui-senpai…" she stammered, a hand still resting on her rapidly-beating chest as she spotted her next-door neighbor standing not too far from her. "I didn't see you there…" Then she paused as she registered his words. "New neighbor? What do you mean?"

Inui's glasses seemed to gleam manically upon the realization that he knew something that the young woman didn't. "That was Ryoma Echizen earlier, was it not? Denying it is pointless."

At Sakuno's blank stare, he continued. "I met him some days ago. He's living in Room 204, right below us."

"EH?!"

Meanwhile, as Ryoma made his way out of the apartment complex to the road back to Haritatsu's, he was completely unaware of the inconspicuous red car parked a few yards away from the entrance of the apartment building, hidden in the shadows on a street corner. Inside the vehicle, concealed by heavily tinted windows, the stereo blared out an old ballad song, while the man behind the wheel repeatedly juggled an orange fruit with his left hand. The man's eyes, lurking behind a pair of sunglasses, narrowed upon the sight of Ryoma's retreating back, his lips slowly forming a wide smirk.

In a swift movement, the man used his other, orange-free hand to grab his mobile phone and punch in a number.

He gripped the orange and took a bite from it—even with the peel on—when there was a click on the other end of the line to indicate an answered call.

"_Nanako," _he said in a low, highly amused voice. _ "I just discovered your dirty little secret."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I swear this will be the last time I will ever attempt to write a chapter from Sakuno's POV. Writing Ryoma is so much easier! I also apologize for any grammatical/spelling errors found in this and the previous chapters. I will find time to polish them, promise!

I did not make up Sakuno's disease. A viral form of meningoencephalitis was the epidemic featured in the 2011 star-studded movie _Contagion_.

If you want to listen to the musical pieces I have featured in this story, you can check them out via the links I posted on my profile. I would also try to periodically update my profile to inform you of my progress in writing _Capriccio's_ next chapter (and my other stories as well).

Thanks for reading! Please review, I'd like to know what you honestly think about this chapter! :)


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